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Best Entertainments for Any Time. 

Dialogs and Plays. 

A CORNER IN HEARTS. By Edna Randolph Worrell. Parlor play for 4 young men 
and 1 lady, or 5 men. Very amusing. All the lovers propose to the same girl. Rich 
humor; pleasing situations. Excellent for any time. 25 minutes. 15 cents. 

A DAY AT HAPPY HOLLOW SCHOOL. By Lettie Cook VanDerveer. 
A new play of the "Deestrick Skule" type. Up-to-date wit and clever 
drolleries. A city automobile party In contrast with rural youngsters. Lots 
of fun. Songs, etc., may be introduced. A capital piay to make money 
for church or school. 25 cents. 

A GOOSE AND SOME GEESE. By Eleanor Stinchcomb. A Jolly Mother 
Goose play with a very pointed climax. For 6 girls and ? boys. Time, 
15 minutes. 15 cents. 

A HALLOWE'EN ADVENTURE. A lively play, by Effle Louise Koogle. 
Full of ghostly excitement and spooky frolic. Specially suited for social 
loccasions. 8 males and 8 females, or more. 3 scenes. 1 hour. 15 cents. 
A LITTLE HEROINE OF THE REVOLUTION. A play for all ages. 
By Elizabeth P. Guptill. A little girl is sent ostensibly to play with a _ 
friend, but really to carry a message to General Marion. She Is captured by the British, 
tut by her cleverness deceives them, and reaches her destination. Full of historic Interest. 
10 males. 5 females. More boys may be added as soldiers. If desired. 25 cents. 

AL MARTIN'S COUNTRY STORE. A burlesque for from 15 to 30 par- 
ticipants, by Archibald Humboldt and Martelle Everett. Unsurpassed for 
merriment, taking qualities and ease of production. A country store with 
all its peculiar environments is depicted. The loafers, the small cus- 
tomers, the gossipers, the lovers, the innocent fun makers, all have parts. 
There is a graceful plot that gathers interest as the play proceeds and 
culminates in a brilliant climax. Unquestionably the greatest success as a 
popular entertainment. 25 cents 

CONTEST OF THE NATIONS, THE. A spectacular play or cantata, 
by Elizabeth F. Guptill. The Goddess of Liberty and 12 nations competa 
for the laurel crown. It embraces a fine march ; splendid songs by Archi- 
bald Humboldt. Very effective. 13 ladies. 25 cents.. 
CABBAGE HILL SCHOOL. A humorous play for ch ildren or youn g 

l-t-iola ftp a nonr "oIt^txtI- t ■ ■ ■ '"*"■ " _"___T1 






people, by Elizabeth F. Guptill. Presents the trials of a new "skewl 
m*rm" on the opening day, and the performances of the pupils In the 
presence of august visitors on closing day. A veritable mirth-provoker. 
.Full of the richest humor. 10 males. 16 female characters (or less). 25c. 
CROWNING THE MAY QUEEN. A spectacular play by Elizabeth F. 
1 Guptill. Children go Maying, select and crown a queen, wind the Maypole, 
and have a merry time. The frolic Is quickly changed to great excitement by 
the appearance of a gypsy, who attempts to abduct them. A very clever 
plot and a happy arrangement. 9 boys and 8 girls, or 17 girls. 25 cents. 
CUPID'S JOKE. A charming little drama in which Cupid plays an 
Important part. A splendid society play for St. Valentine's Day, or any 
social occasion. 5 male and 5 female characters, and Cupid. 3 scenes, 
45 minutes. By Effle Louise Koogle. 15 cents. 

DIALOGS FOR ANY TIME, ORIGINAL. By Elizabeth P. Gnptlll. Interesting and 
amusing. May be given in any room with very few property requirements, by primary and 
Intermediate grades. The author's name is a guarantee of their excellence. They are 
■witty, spicy and lively. 25 cents. 

DISPELLING OF BIG JIM, THE. A negro farce in one act. by Sterling O. Brewer. 
Decidedly humorous. Big Jim is being tried by the officials of Big Bethel Church for 
some misdemeanor. The trial is full of interesting occurrences and culminates in an exciting 
event. Full of darky humor. 8 male characters. 30 minutes. 15 cents. 
DOCTOR AND PATIENT. By John M. Drake. 2 male characters. Very funny. 5c. 
DOIG'S EXCELLENT DIALOGS. By Agnes M. Doig. Contains four excellent dialogs 
for the primary grades. "Keeping Store," 3 girls, 1 boy. "Guessing," 3 girls, J* boys. 
"Playing School," 4 boys, 4 girls. "Christmas Eve," 3 girls, 2 boys. 10 cents. 
DOLL DIALOG. This is a very instructive dialog for 4 little girls. 5 cents. 
DOLLY SHOW, THE. A dialog in rhvme for 1 little girls and 2 boys. The girls have 
a* baby show with their dollies, and each "mother" shows her baby off to the best advantage. 
•Hie Judge is unusually wise, awarding the prize to the satisfaction of each one. The sayings 
» of the little ones are cute, and the whole performance a great success. 15 cents. 
•••DOLLS* SYMPOSIUM, THE. A most unique and captivating play, by Elizabeth 
F. Guptill. It combines spicy dialog, fascinating drills, clever 
burlesque, entrancing songs and cunning antics. Children imper- 
sonate the dolls and do the most amusing stunts. Unequaled as a. 
surprising fun maker. For any number from 16 to 50. One-half 
to one and one-half hours, as desired. 25 cents. 

GOING TO MEET AUNT HATTIE. A dialog by Mrs. Hunt. For 
1 male and 3 female characters. 5 cents. 

THE GOLDEN GOBLET. An exceedingly clever farce, with female 
cast, for Bachelor Girls' and Women's Clubs. Sororities, etc., by Louise 
Rand Bascom, author of "The Masonic Ring." Uproariously funny with 
absurd situations and comical elaborations. A "hit" for any occasion. 
Easy to produce. Any number of characters, but 12 required. 1 hr. 35c. 
HEIR OF MT. VERNON, THE. A Colonial Society Play for any 
occasion, in which Washington's social life, sterling manhood and cour- 
teous manners are portrayed. In one scene Christmas is celebrated in 
rare plantation style. Lively with old plantation melodies and pranks. 
By Effle Louise Koogle. For grammar grades or adults. 4 scenes, 8 boys 
and 8 girls, or more will be better. 1 to 2 hours. 25 cents. 

No entertalniuentN nest on approval or exchanged. 




THE SCHOOL 
AT MUD HOLLOW 

A Burlesque 

In Two Parts 

By 
ELIZABETH F. GUPTILL 

Price 35 Cents 

All Rights Reserved, Amateur Performance Permit tea 




265 West 36th Street, New York 14 W. Washington Street, Chicago 



Copyright IQI4 h Tullar-Mtredith Co. 
International Copyright Securea 






TMP96-007C93 



©GI.A401342 

M )\ 1915 

7< ( 



Characters 



Part I 

Miss Arabella Pinkham — the Teacher. 

Evalina Margarita Gwendolyn Smythe } 

Dorcas Ann Ransom e f D •? t £ 7 , 

Josiah Joel Joseph Jones \ Pu ^ ls f rom J 4 to '<* years old 

Fritz Van Hummel ) 

Mehitable Mercy Matilda Jones 1 

Maria Nancy Bascom f D ., , 

Terence O'Hara O'Connor O'Donnell \ Pu ^ ls f rom I0 to I2 y mTS 

Dandelion Blossom j 

Ellowina Roberta Evangeline Smythe \ 

Honora Bridget Mary O'Donnell I 

Katrinka Van Hummel > Pupils 7 to g years 

Calla Lily Blossom i 

WilUam Adolphus West ) 

Reginald Algernon DeMontmorency Smythe ) 

Polly Jane Jenkins Jones >■ Pupils of 5 or 6 years 

Lydia Jane Brown ) 

Mrs. West — Willie's Mother 

Hanna Ann Brown — Lyddy's big sister 

Mr. Jacob Benway — the Supervisor, who has money in the bank 

Part II 

Mrs. Smythe — from the City 
Mrs. Blossom — a (i Cullud Lady" 
Mrs. Van Hummel — of Dutch extraction 
Mrs. O'Donnell— from the Emerald Isle 
Miss Ketchem — an Old Maid 
Mr. Ruben Ransome — the "Committee Man" 
Mr. Hank Jenkins — Miss Hanna Ann Brown's Fiancee 
Also all the Characters in Part I 



Costumes and Properties 



For the first part, dress children in accordance with their characters, but in 
every day school clothes. 

The Smythes are dressed rather elaborately ; Blossoms gaudily; VanHummels 
in full Dutch breeches and skirts; country children plainly — boys in shirts and 
overalls, girls in calico or gingham aprons. 

In second part, they wear their "best clothes." Irish and Darkey children 
wear stiffly starched clothing; Calla Lily's many tiny braids are tied with 
bright ribbons of various colors. Choose dark eyed children for darkies, use- 
ing burnt cork. Dan may have a wig, if preferred; if Calla Lily has rather 
short, dark hair, it will look all right when braided and tied. Fritz has light 
hair, rather long, and Katrinka has two long, light braids. The Irish children 
have red or brown hair. In the second part, Evalina and Ellowina have long 
curls, made over curling iron. Ellowina's may be "Dutch cut" instead, with 
a very large bow. Choose boy with long curls or "Dutch cut" for Reginald. 
Dress visitors in accordance with parts taken. The Teacher should be 
stylishly dressed. 

A desk for the teacher, with a chair or two, settees for visitors and seats and 

desks for the children are all that is required. 

Train children carefully in speaking in dialect. They can be a year or two 

older than given ages. 

Play may be given entirely by grown-ups, those impersonating pupils dressed 

accordingly. This will be more laughable. 

The play may be given as a whole, occupying an evening; or parts may be 

presented on different evenings. Either part may be given alone. 

Part II may be prolonged by encores, or any specialties. Other recitations or 

songs may be used instead of those given. 



The School at Mud Hollow 

Part I 

(Scene : the schoolroom. Miss Pinkham seated at desk, soliloquizing.) 

Miss Pinkham. Well, of all the forsaken holes to drop into! Such a school- 
room! And such a name! Mud Hollow! Couldn't they have thought up 
anything prettier than that, I wonder? And that queer old fellow who gave 
me my certificate. Could a more perfect specimen of the genus "Ruben" 
exist? I came near asking him if that was his name. And how he did smirk! 
Gave me to understand that if I pleased him, the rest of the committee 
would be all right. With what a lordly air he told me what my princely 
salary would be — four dollars a week, and board around. Asked me my age, 
too, as if I were a child! Well, I told him. I am twenty-two, I'm sure, and 
it's nobody's business if I've been that age for fifteen years, I'm sure! And 
there's certainly no one here to marry, if he's a specimen. I shan't stay 
but one term, that's certain. I thought this part of the country might be a 
change, and it certainly is. (Looks at watch.) Nine o'clock! Here goes to 
call in the young Reubens and find out how much, or how little, they know. 
(Goes to door, rings bell, children enter, noisily.) 

Dan Where 'bouts does yo' want we-all to sit, Teacher? 

Miss Pinkham. Oh, anywhere. Take your old seats — the ones you occupied 
last term. 

Dan. De ones we all done did what to? 

Lilly. Oxahpied, yo' niggah. I neber done dat to my seat, Teacher, neber! 

Miss P. Take the same seats you had before. 

Terry. Sure, and we will do that same, Teacher. 

(They take seats, with much pushing and giggling.) 

Miss P. You will find some work on the blackboard to occupy your hands 
and attention, while I classify you and assign your lessons. 

Joe. T'other teachers never signed our lessons. We allers signed the writ 
ones our own selves, and the say ones you can't sign. 

Miss P. I mean classify you, and tell you where your lessons will be. 

Joe. Oh! (Maria begins to cry.) 

Miss P. What's the matter, little girl? Are you ill? 

Maria. Are I what? 

Miss P. Are you sick? Do you feel badly? 

Maria. No, I aint sick, but I do feel bad. I don't want to be classified. It'll 
hurt. 

Miss P. Why, no it won't. What an idea! 

Maria. 'Twill, too! What you want to do it for? None of our other teachers 
did. 'Sides, our folks won't like it at all! 1 want to go home. 

Miss P. What a silly little girl! Sit up and be good. 

Maria. I don't want to be good. I want to go home. I aint no butterfly. 

Miss P. Butterfly! Is the child crazy? (Shakes her slightly.) Now sit up 
and tell me what the trouble is. Why are you crying? 

Maria. I don't want to be killed and stuck on a cushion! 

Hitty. (Waving her hand.) I know, Teacher! I know what's the matter of 
. her. 



The School at Mud Hollow. 



Miss P. The matter with her, you mean. Well, what is it? 

Hilly. The matter of her with her is that you said you were going to classify un. 

Miss P. And why should that make her cry? 

Hillji. Her uncle's a c'lector. 

Miss P. I don't see that you have made it any clearer. 

Terry. The uncle of her c'lects butterflies, mem— kills 'em with a cyanide 

bottle, shticks a pin through thim fer his c'lection, shure! He calls it a 

classifyin' of 'em, and she thinks you're a-wantin' to do the same to her, mem. 
Miss P. The idea! Now, little girl, stop crying at once. I only want to find 

out what class you belong in. 
Maria. I don't want to b'long in any class. I want to go home. 
Dan. Nebah mind M'ria, Miss Teachah; she cries mos' all de time. She go 

"weep, weep, weep," like ole Frog's chillen out in de ma'sh. 
Joe. She was born c yin', and she'll die cryin' and turn into a founting, like 

that Niby girl her uncle tells about. 
Maria. I want to go home! 
Miss P. Maria, stop crying at once, or I shall give you something to cry 

about. Have you finished? 
Maria. Y-y-yessm. (Wipes eyes on apron, but continues to sniff.) 
Miss P. The highest class may come out here. The rest of you take your 

books and find something to do until I have time to examine you. 
(Fritz raises his hand.) 
Miss P. What is it? 
Fritz. Der last teacher vot zamined anybody in dis sgool got herselluf into a 

heap ov trouble aretty. 
Miss P. What do y~ .; mean by that? Are you trying to be impertinent? No, 

(to Terry, who is wildly waving his hand and snapping his fingers) not you. 

Put your hand dowi I want the other boy to answer. Were you trying 

to be impertinent? 
Fritz. Yah, I guess zo aretty.' I didn't know vot you means by dot big vord, 

but I voz a drying to hellup you geep out ov a scrape. 
Miss P. I don't understand you. No (to Terry again) I am talking to this 

boy. 
Fritz. Der leedle gray deacher vot vos here von dime, she did zamine Galla 

Lily Blossom's head vor gieepers, und Vrow Blossom she did chase dot leedle 

deacher out ov der down aretty, mit a razor. 
Miss P. Can't you speak English? 

Fritz. Yah, dot vos English aretty. Did you dink it vos Tutch? 
Miss P. It sounds very much like it. (Terry has waved his hand wildly most 

of the time, and Miss P. now speaks to him.) Now, boy, what is it? 

Terry. May it plaze yer sweet face, tacher, Dutchy can't hilp talking that 
way, at all, at all. He thinks it's Inglish, but it's jist a hodge-podge. What 
he's a-trying to say, but can't for the brogue of of him, is that Miss Gray, 
she got it into the pretty head of her, that Calla Lily Blossom had visitors 
in the kinky head of her, and she axamined it, jist to make sure, ye know, 
in defince of her own hair and the rats she wore in that same; and sure there 
wasn't annything in the wool of her at all, at all. 'Twas jist a notion, like, 
that she had of scratching the head of her because her mither made it itch 
like by pulling it tight, and braiding it into sich a hape of little tails to tie 
ribbins onto. So Miss Gray she looked at it, sharp, through her glasses, and 
there was all the little paths clane and impty, and no cattle a-running up 



The School at Mud Hollow. 

and down 'em at all, at all, and she sint Calla Lily to the sate of her with 
the bid to stop the scratching of her; and that was all there was to it. But 
the little colleen she told her mither whin she got home, and her mither she 
got after Miss Gray with a razor, and bedad, Miss Gray was that scared 
that she took the first train for home, and she niver came back to finish the 
terrum. 
Miss P. (Who has vainly tried to speak.) For pity's sake, boy, do you never 
stop to take breath? 

Terry. Sure, and I do that same, Tacher, whiniver it's nadeful. 

Miss P. Well, stop to do it now. Take several. (Terry does so, noticeably.) 

That will do. Sit down and keep still. I shall not examine your heads, the 

outside, at least, but I'll try to find out if there is anything inside. 
Joe. There aint, Teacher, not a thing. 
Miss P. Probably not. Highest class, pass to the front of the room. (They 

start to do so, straggling along.) No, go back. 
Dorcas. You told us to! 
Miss P. Take your seats again. 
Fritz. I didn't dake it the vurst dime. It vas right there all der dime aretty. 

It vas vastened to der vloor, und I gouldn't dake it. 
Miss P. Well, let it take you. (Fritz seais himself. The rest have already 

done so.) 
Miss P. Now, children, you heard this bell? (As she speaks, she gives the bell 

a smart tap.) 
Dan. Golly! 

Katrinka. Mine Gootness! 
Polly. Be that thing a bell, Teacher? 

Miss P. Of course it's a bell. Didn't your last teacher have a bell? 
Temperance. No'um, he didn't. He had a ferule, and he used to pound with 

it on the desk or on the side of the school-house, but he never had no bell. 
Nora. Miss Gray had a big bell, but she rung it this way. (Moves her arm 

up and down.) She niver give it a pat on the head of it with one finger, and 

it wouldn't have spoke for her, bedad, if she had done that same. 
Miss P. My bell rings so. (Touches it several times.) Now, the oldest class 

rise when I ring it once and pass out when I ring it again. Now rise. (She 

laps bell. (Clans straggles up.) No, no! All rise at cnce! Sit down. Now! 

(taps bell again, and they rise the same as before. Fritz sits still.) 
Joe. Get up, Dutchy. 
Fritz. Vor vat should I get up, Choe? 
Miss P. Are you in this class? 
Fritz. Yah! I be in dis glass aretty. 
Miss P. Then why do you not rise with the others? 
Fritz. Rise? I did not zee any von rise. 
Miss P. They all did but you. 
Fritz. Vy, der rest of der glass chust shtood up aretty. Mine mutter she 

make der pread to rise, but I don't got any yeast in me. 

Miss P. I mean stand up. 

Fritz. Yah, Fraulein. (He does so.) 

Miss P. Now sit down. Now all try to get up together. (They try several 

times. Finally she gels the class to the front.) 
Joe. All gitty up and sitty down, I call it. 



8 The School at Mud Hollow. 

Miss P. No remarks, please. 

Joe. I wasn't a-remarkin' anything, but it was like the time my uncle Cy 
went to church. He was in Bosting. a-seein' the sights, and one Sunday he 
went to church. He put on a biled shirt and iled his hair up slick, and 
then he followed the craoud. 'Twas a tony church, with winders made of 
lee tie bits of broken glass bottles in all the colors of the rainbow. Made a 
picter, too, they did. Wal, Uncle Cy he watched the rest, and done just as 
they done, and they kep' a-hoppin up every two or three minutes, and then 
a sittin' and then a kneelin' and a sassin' of the minister back. And the 
minister wore a widder's wrapper with a long towel round his neck and 
hangin' down on both sides, and the singers marched up the aisle with black 
petticuts on, and short night gaowns over them, and be hanged if they 
weren't boys, at that. And when Uncle Cy got aout, he said, "I'll be gol 
derned if ever I set foot in a city church agin! It's all gitty up and sitty 
daown." 

Miss P. That will do. I'll talk, now. I see I shall have to teach this school 

to be quiet. I never saw one that talked so much. 
Hilly. School haint said nothin'. It's the scholars. 
Miss P. Silence! I will take your names first. (To Evalina.) Yours first, 

please. I see you don't talk without permission. 
Evalina. No indeed, Miss Pinkham. My Mamma (slrong emphasis on last 

syllable) is exterreemerly perticuler about the etiquette of our manners. We 

hold ourselves above the common herd of rabble around here. 
Joe. Some punkins, we are! 
Evalina. (Tossing head.) My apple-eration is Miss Evalina Margarita 

Gwendolyn Smythe. 
Miss P. Smith? 
Evalina. No, Madamoysle, Smythe. S-m-y-t h-e. It makes Mamma nearly 

swoon away to be called by that vulgar coggernomen, Smith. 
Miss P. Indeed! Where did you learn such very queer words? Not from 

the dictionary, I am sure. 
Evalina. I imbibed them from the conversation of my dear Mamma. She 

has the most flowery command of the intrickersissies of our grammatical 

language of any one you ever conversationed with. 
Joe. That she has. She's a walkin' Webster on a bridge. 
Evalina. She knows the dictionary now, and is always gleaning some new 

and oregonalidears from its wonderfully elerquent pages. Mr. Clancy, our 

last teacher, said it was wonderful what Mamma could do to the Angle-o 

Saxing language. 
Miss P. I should think so. Suppose you try to speak in simpler words, while 

at school. 
Evalina. Mamma would be exceedingerly unpleased with me, if I should do 

so. She wishes me to become as graceful a conversationer as she is. 
Miss P. How old are you? 
Evalina. Twelve. 

Miss P. Only twelve? , 

Terry. Sure, and she's been twilve iver since furst she came here, four years 

ago. Her Mamma (he imitates her way of saying the word) is a widdy, and 

6he's trying her livil bist to quit being that same, so she kapes Evalina 

young to kape from growing older hersilf. 
Evalina. That isn't true, Miss Pinkham. 
Miss P. You certainly look all of sixteen. You are as tall as I. 



The School at Mud Hollow. 

Evalina. Well, see how short my skirts are. 

Miss P. That doesn't prove anything. 

Evalina. Mr. Clancy didn't believe it, either, but Mamma 6aid you would be 
a lady about it, she knew, for you'd told Reuben Ransome that you was 
twenty-two, and you appear twenty years more elder than that. 

Miss P. Of course your mother knows your age. I shall put it down twelve, 
of course. 

Evalina. Ma remarked this very morning that she was absolutely and cer- 
tainly possertive that you would, Thank you extremerly. 

Miss P. (To Dorcas.) What is your name? 

Dorcas. Dorcas Ann Ransome. The man what gin you yet stifficut is my 
Grandsir. 

Miss P. Indeed! And your age, Dorcas? 

Dorcas. 'Tisn't Dorcas. It's Dorcas Ann. I'm fifteen come Feb'r'y. 

Miss P. I shall call you Dorcas. It is your Christian name. 

Dorcas. 'Tisn't Dorcas. It's Dorcas Ann. Everybody always calls me the 
whole of it. 

Dan. Dey does. Miss Teachah, truly. It all b'longs togeddah, like Brer 
Turkle 'n his house. 

Miss P. Those in their seats keep still. As I said before, I shall call you 
Dorcas. 

Dorcas. 'Tisn't Dorcas. It's Dorcas Ann. My Grandsir named me for his 
first sweetheart, the one that wouldn't have him, and he won't like it if you 
don't say it all. Maybe you won't get Mud Hollow School next term. 

Miss P. (Aside.) Goodness knows I sha'n't want it. (Aloud.) Very well, 
Dorcas Ann, I'll try to remember it all. But why do you call this the Mud 
Hollow School? 

Dorcas. 'Cause 'tis! 

Miss P. But why is it? 

Dorcas. 'Cause it's in Mud Holler. 

Miss P. It is between two hills, but why not call it a vale or a valley instead 
of a hollow? Pleasant Vale, for instance, would be a much more euphonious 
name. 

Evalina. That's a pretty word — euphonious! I'll repeat that to Mamma! 

Miss P. Shall we call our school the Pleasant Vale School? 

Dorcas. 'Tis Mud Holler. 

Joe. Guess you'll think so, if you're ever here in mud time, Teacher. It's 
the muddiest hole in the hull township. 

Terry. Shure, an it is that same! I know who named it, Tacher! 

Miss P. Well, who did? Was he such a great man that it must always be 
called what he called it? 

Terry. Faith, he was a man whose name I don't know, mem, and I dis- 
remimber jist where he come from, but it wasn't sich a muddy counthry as 
this, annyway. And he was a poddling along in the mud, and a swearing 
that if iver he got back to the bogs of old Oirland, 'twas there he'd stay, and 
not go a-hunting for annything worrus, whin he saw a hat in the road be- 
front of him. Says he to himsilf, "I'll jist pick up tnat hat," says he, whin 
all at once he saw that it was a-moving along, slow like. "Bedad," says he, 
"Am I drunk, or is the hat?" Well, he walked on, his eyes on the queer- 
moving hat, till he caught up with the crater. "Faith," says he, "Frind 
Hat, it's mesilf that don't like yer actions," and he up with his fut, and 
f itched the hat a kick; and thin he jumped three feet into the air, for a voice 



10 The School at Mud Hollow. 

from under him calls out, "Let my hat alone, will ye?" "Yer hat?" says he, 
"And who may ye be, ye spalpeen, and faith, where are ye?" And the voice 
answered, "I'm John Jones, and I'm a riding along on this load of hay, a- 
minding me own business, and will yez plaze to do the same, if it's all alike 
to you? "And the man gave a woild scrame, and lit out for the sayshore, 
to wait till a ship should come forninst him, bound for old Oirland. "Sure, 
and its mesilf," says he, "that wants nothing to do wid a counthry where the 
mud is dape enough to hide a load of hay, and a man betop of that same, 
all but the hat of him." And it's been Mud Holler iver since, saving yer 
prisince, mem. 

Dorcas. And it is Mud Holler. 

Miss P. Well, we'll see about rechristening it, later. 

Dorcas. 'Tis Mud Holler, so there now! 

Miss P. That will do. 

Dorcas, (aside.) 'Tis Mud Holler, anyhow, so there! 

Miss P. (To Joe.) What is your name? 

Joe. Jo-siah, Jo-el, Jo-seph Jones. 

Miss P. Nonsense! 

Joe. Yas'm, that's what I think, but that's my name, just the same. You 
see, I'd had four sisters, already, when I come along, but I wasn't a sister, 
I was a boy. 

Miss P. So I should suppose. 

Joe. 'N Granny Baker 'n Granther Jones, 'n Great Aunt Matildy all wanted 
to name me, 'n they all wanted to call me Joe, but Granny wanted Josiah, 
after Granther Baker, 'n Granther, he wanted Joel, cause that war his name, 
'n Great- Aunt Matildy, she wanted Joseph, 'cause he war her one and only 
beau, thet got drownded, 'n there Ma war, all fussed up atween 'em. So 
finally, Dad, he settled it. "Name him all three, "said he," and we'll call 
him joe, 'n thet's short fur the hull kit 'n kaboodle of 'em," so they did. 

Miss P. But your first name is Josiah? 

Joe. Yas marm, Jo-siah, Jo el, Joseph Jones. 

Miss P. I shall call you Josiah. 

Joe. Pa, he won't hev it. "No partiality," he says. Jest call me Joe. 

Miss P. I will, Jo-siah. 

Joe. Naow I wouldn't dew thet, if I war you, 'cause Pa he'll raise a raow, 

same as he did when Miss Gray called me ihet, 'n Reuben Ransome, he'll 

stand by him. "We don't hire teachers." he told her, "to tell the young 

'uns what their names be. Yew call em what their pairients dew, dew yew 

hear?" 'n she hed tew. 
Miss P. I always supposed that the teacher was the one to run the school, 

but it seems that I was mistaken. 
Joe. Right yew be, marm. Reuben Ransome runs this skewl, 'n he runs it 

to please the men thet elect him'. "I don't let my hired men boss me," says 

he, "Nor I shan't my hired women." 
Miss P. Indeed! Your age? 
Joe. Sixteen come Michaelmas Day. 
Miss P. And when may that be? 

Joe. Why, why, it's Jan'r'y, or Feb'r'y, I haint sartin which. 
Miss P. A boy fifteen years old, and don't know the date of your birthday? 
Joe. I do know it. It's Michaelmas Day. 
Dan. He means Ground Hog Day, Miss Teachah. 



The School at Mud Hollow. 11 

Miss P. Ground Hog Day? 




look at de weddah. An' if de sun's a shinin' so he can see his own shaddah, 
he goes back an' cuhls up for anuddah long nap, 'caze he know wintah is 
only half gonded. 

Katrinka. Zum volks galls it voodchuck day. 

Miss P. But just when is it? What date? (All shake heads.) Joe, ask your 
mother tonight the date of your birthday. 

Joe. She'll say just what she did when Miss Gray made me ask her. She 
said, "You tell that silly little skewlmarm thet if she dunno when Mich- 
aelmas Day comes, she'd better study her almanac a little." 

Miss P. (To Fritz.) Your name? 

Fritz. Vot? 

Miss P. Give me your name. 

Fritz. I vant him mine selluf . Pesides, he vouldn't vit you, aretty, for vy 

you vos a fraulein, aint it? 
Miss P. Tell me your name. 
Fritz. Vritz. 
Miss P. Fritz what? 
Fritz. No, not Vritz vot, but Vritz Van Hummel. Dare vos no name vot 

gome betveen, like as der odder poys, and I vos vourdeen. 
Miss P. Now what does this class study? 

Dorcas and Joe. (One names two or three, then the other.) Readin', writin', 
'rithmetic, gogafy, spellin, grammar, algebray, hist'ry, comperzishin, pro- 
nounciation, 'rithmetic — 

Dorcas. I said 'rithmetic. 

Joe. So did I you see. 

Dorcas. Well, you needn't. I'd said it a'ready. 

Miss P. Don't begin to argue again, Dorcas Ann. Which study do you like 
best, Joe? 

Joe. I don't like none of 'em. 

Miss P. But you should. You want an education, don't you? 

Joe. I ben't at all particular 'baout thet, marm, but I dew want thet hundred 
acre lot. You see, Granther Baker, he couldn't read nor write, 'n Granny 
Baker she said thet she was always 'shamed to hev to dew it all fur him, 'n 
she war plum sorry tew see thet I didn't hev no great leanin's thet-a-way, 
nuther, 'n so she said thet if I went to skewl till I war sixteen, she'd gimme 
her hundred acre lot when she war through with it, but she didn't dew it. 
She war all through with it four year ago, when she died o' pewmony, but 
I'll be hanged if she didn't leave a will thet I couldn't hev it till I war one 
an' twenty, 'n not then, 'nlessn I'd kep' on at skewl till I war sixteen. If I 
don't, Hitty gits ha'f, 'n Polly ha'f, 'n I'll be hanged if them gals is a-goin' 
to git my proputty. So here I stick till next Michaelmas Day, 'n then I'm 
done. 

Miss P. Which study do you like best, Dorcas — Ann? 

Dorcas. Readin', 'cause it's easiest. 

Fritz. I likes der viggers, and der von vare you chuggle vith the x, vy, z. 

Miss P. And you, Evalina? 



12 The School at Mud Hollow. 

Evalina. Oh, grammar, pronounciation and compersishin. Yes, and geog- 

geriffy. I like about the countries and cities across the ocean, for I intend 

to go abroad on my wedding tower. 
Miss P. Indeed? 
Evelina. Mamma says if you'll corndescend to teach me citified ettikwetty, 

dancing, ellercushing and singing, also lessons on the piano, she'll pay you 

well. 
Joe. With a prommissory note, due when she marries old Jake Benway. 

Evalina. The idearr! 

Joe. Wal, you know she's settin' her cap at him, and has been ever since she 

found out thet he had a hundred thousand dollars left him by his — his — oh 

hang it! 'Twas his wife's cousin's husband's brother's first wife's ant, warn't 

it, Everleeny? 
Evalina. The idearr! It was his wife's second cousin once removed that left 

it to her, she died right after that, so it came to him. It is nothing to you 

if he likes my mamma. 
Dorcas. He doesn't. She runs after him. He said so. 
Evalina. She does not! 
Joe. She do. 

Miss P. That will do, children. Who is Jake Benway? 
Joe. He's the supervisor, marm. You'll see enough of him. He's allers a 

pokin' his nose into the skewlroom. 
Miss P. You must not speak so of your superiors, my boy. We shall be 

happy to see him, I'm sure. 
Joe. Wal, I haint. He axes questions. 
Miss P. Where are you in Geography? 
Joe. Yurrup. Thet is, we're a-goin' to be, if you don't put us back. Most 

all the teachers do. 
Miss P. What can you do in arithmetic? 
Dorcas. Most anything as far as fractions, if we have our books to see the 

rules. We can't do any of the miscellaneous ones, 'cept Dutchy. 
Miss P. Then you haven't taken fractions? 
Joe. Land sakes, yes! We've took 'em an' took 'em, but somehow they don't 

take to us. 
Miss P. And yet you study algebra? 
Joe. Yas'm, but we don't hurt it any. We haint never got very fur, 'cause 

we git all tangled up in the plus an' minus. 
Dorcas. I aint a-goin' to study it this term. My Ma says it's foolish to make 

believe do 'rithmetic with the alpherbet, an' I'm to drop it. 
Joe. Guess I will, too. 
Miss P. It would be well, I think, for you all to drop it till you are a little 

farther in arithmetic. {Evalina raises hand.) Well, Evalina? 
Evalina. I'm afraid my mamma will be filled with oberjections as to that. 

She cornsiderates that algibberray is a very genteel study, and entirely fit- 

ticated to be a portion of a well bred young lady 's education. She will 

desire me to continue with it, I am certainly possertive. 
Friz. I like der leedle letters vot makes berlieve dey vos riggers. It vos as 

goot as a buzz'.e aretty, to guess at der way to mix dem up. 
Miss P. Well, I will see, later, what you and Evalina can do with it. Joe 

and Dorcas — Ann may drop it if they wish. You may take your seats, now, 

and be prepared to shnw me what you know about fractions, after recess. 

(They take seats. > Next cl ss! (Terry, Dan and Hitty come out.) 



The School at Mud Hollow. 13 

Terry. Sure, an' Maria's in our class. 
Miss P. Come Maria. 

Maria. I don't want to come. I want to go home. You're a c'lector! 
Miss P. Don't be foolish, Maria. I shall not hurt you. Come! 
Maria. I want to go home! (Begins to cry again.) 

Miss P. What a silly little girl! Don't be a baby, now. Come out here, 
before I have to come after you. 

Maria. I- — I — don't like to be called names! T-t-tisn't nice, if y-you are a 
s-sschool-ma'am ! 

Miss P. I didn't call you any names, but you must obey. You are disturb- 
ing the rest of the school. 

Maria. Y-y-you d-did too! You said I was a silly fool, and a bawl-baby! 

Miss P. I didn't say so, but you certainly appear so. Come! 

Maria. I-I-don't wanter! (Miss P. goes to her, and brings her down by force, 
Maria crying loudly.) 

Dan. Golly! She makes as much noise as ole Mis' Crow's pickaninnies did 
when Brer Fox got arter 'em. 

Miss P. (Shaking Maria.) Be still! If you don't keep quiet, I shall whip 
you. 

Maria. (Subsiding into sobs.) I-I-don't mind a wh-whipping, but I don't 
want pi-pins stuck into me ! 

Miss P. What is your name? 

Maria. M-M -Maria, (sniff, sniff) N-Nancy, (sniff,) B B-Bascom, oh dear! 

Miss P. And your age? 

Maria. A d-d-d-d ozen! 

Miss P. Well, see if you can stop crying a few minutes, do! 

Terry. Sure, and she'll stop byme-by, when she furgits herself, but she'll 
begin agin as soon as iver she remembers. She's worrus than a banshee, a- 
wailing all the living time. She'd be a trisure at a wake! > 

Miss P. (To Hitty.) What is your name, little girl? 

Hilly . Mehitable Mercy Matilda Jones, 'n I'm Joe's sister, 'n I'm 'leven'n 
three quarters. 

Miss P. (To Terry.) And yours? 

Terry. Terence O'Hara O'Connor O'Donnell, if yez plaze'm. 

Miss P. Say it again, please. I didn't get all the O's. (He does so.) 

Miss P. I never had a school v/here the children had such'abundance of names. 

Terry. Sure, and we do that same! Ye see, mem, me mither was O'Connor, 
and her mither was an O'Hara, and me feyther was Terence O'Donnell, as 
was his feyther before him, and his and his and his and his and — 

Miss P. Do stop, boy! Don't go on forever. 

Terry. Sure, an' I wasn't a-goin' to mem. I'd a-stopped whin I got to the 
ind of 'em, av.coorse, but there was tin Terence O'Donnell's av County 
Cork, and I'm the 'livinth. Wan av the good little people she told me great- 
great-grandmither in the 'livinth generation: "Name him Terence," says she 
and whin the thirteenth Terence is born, he'll have a gould spoon in the 
mouth av him" says she. So I'm the 'livinth, an' me grandson will be a 
rich man, bedad! 

Miss P. So you were born in Ireland? 

Terence. I was that, mem, and whin me rich grandson is born, I'm going back, 
bedad, and take me mither with me. She shan't do ither folkses washin's 
thin, says I. 



14 The School at Mud Hollow. 

Miss P. I should think not, indeed. How old are you? 

Terence. Tin, an' goin' on 'livin. 

Miss P. You are young for this class. 

Terry. But I've got an ould hid on the shoulders av me, mem, and ye'll find 
I can do anny worruk that this class can do, bedad. Anny rale Irishman 
can beat a naygur twice his age or size, with wan hand tied behint the back 
av him, yis he can! 

Dan. Don't youall go for to call me no niggah, or I'll bust yo' haid for yo', 
yo' raid-haided Paddy! 

Terry. Yez will, will yez? Kim on an' thry it wance, av yez dare! (Boys 
begin to fight. Miss P. separates them.) 

Miss P. Boys! Boys! I am ashamed of you. Sit down and behave your- 
selves! 

Dan. He needn't go to callin' me niggah, den! 

Terry. Sure an' yersilf called me Paddy! 

Miss P. (Shaking Terry.) Be still! (To Dan.) Now, then, what is your 
name? 

Dan. Dandelion Blossom, and I don't know how old I is, caze my Mammy 
she done furgit. Ise 'bout so older dan my sistah. Measures about the height 
of a two-year old child.) 

Miss P. But what is your name? 

Dan. I dun tole yeh, it's Dandelion Blossom. 

Miss P. That isn't a name, it's a flower. 

Dan. Yas, Mis' Teachah, an' Ise my Mammy's flower. Yo' see, my Daddy 
is Tobe Blossom, an' dat's sho't fo' Tobaccah Blossom, so when my Mammy 
come to know him, she up an' mahhied him fo' his putty name, an' she says, 
ef Ise gwine teh be a Blossom, I'll be a ra'a posy, 'n she changed her name 
fum Chloe to Japonica, caze dat's de bestest blossom she knows, and so 
wealls are, named from posies, too, an' Ise Dandelion. Dey calls me Dan, 
mos'ly, heah at de school, but Mammy don like it. She say it sounds like 
a po' white chile's name. 

Miss P. What do you study? 

Dan. 'Riffumtic, Gog'fy, Spellin', Readin', 'Ritin', an' dat's all. 

Miss P. Where are you in arithmetic? 

Dan. In distruction, Miss Teachah. 

Terence. Sure an' it's substraction he manes, mem, where yez take a number 
from a littler one by borryin' from yez neighbor. "Do yez pay attention, 
me bye, an' git that lisson well," me mither says, "for if yez can learn to 
take somethin' from nuthin', sure an' yez may git rich widout waitin' for 
yez grandson. "We haint got it yit, though. 

Miss P. And in Geography? 

Hitty. We're just a-beginnin' that, Teacher! We're a-learnin' of the defun- 
ishings. 

Miss P. Learn the first lesson to recite after recess. That will do. (Class 
goes to seats, Maria crying into her apron.) 

Miss P. Next class! (Nora, Katrinka, Calla Lily and Elhwina come out.) 

Miss P. Four little girls! That's nice. I'm sure this is a nice class. Now 
I'll take your names. (All begin to give them at once.) Oh, no, not that way, 
one at a time. (To Ellowina.) What is your name? 

Ellowina. Ellowina Roberta Evangeline Smythe, and I'm eight years old. 

Miss P. You are not so tall for your age as your sister. ^ 



The School at Mud Hollow. 15 



Ellowina. No ma'am, but I have a birthday every year. 

Miss P. Indeed? (To Nora.) And what is this little girl's name? 

Nora. Honora Bridget Mary O'Donnell. 

Miss P. And your age? 

Nora. Sivin. (Both answers have been very low.) 

Miss P. Speak up, child, I can't hear you. Cannot you speak louder? (Nora 

shakes head.) 
Terry. She's bashful, mem. She's me little sishter, an' her name's Honora 

Bridget Mary, but we calls her Nora for short. She's sivin, last St. Patrick's 

Day. 
Miss P. And who is this little girl? 
Katrinka. Katrinka Van Hummel, and I vos eight years 1 old aretty. Zum 

day I vos been nine. Fritz, he vos mine brutter, zum, und I vos his zister, 

aretty, too. 
Miss P. And this is Dan's sister, I'm sure. What blossom are you? 
Calla Lily. Calla Lily. 

Miss P. And do they call you Calla, or Lily? 
Calla Lily. Dey calls me Calla Lily. My Mammy she say de hull on it, ebry 

time, Teachah. 
Miss P. Exceedingly appropriate, I'm sure! And has she forgotten your 

age, too? 
Calla Lily. Yassum, but dat don' mattah. Ise old enough to go to school- 
Cabbage Rose an' Rhododendron an' Magnolia dey aint big 'nough yet- 
White Clematis he war big 'nough, but he 'et too much water million, an' 

he's daid, so he aint a-comin' this term 
Miss P. I should think not. 
Calla Lily. Mebbe his ghostess might come, Teachah, if we-all kept school 

night times. Ghostesses don't come out by day. 
Miss P. Nor by night, child, either. Surely you do not believe in ghosts? 
Dan. Don' yo' Teachah, truly? 
Miss P. Certainly not! 
Dan. Den yo' jes' bettah come see my Mammy, an' let her tell yo' 'bout 

what a lot she's seed, an' how she's talked to 'em. She's allers a-sayin' dat 

folkses what don' b'lieve in ghostesses an' ha'nts is ig'nunt, an' needs to be 

teached. 
Miss P. That will do. There is no such thing as a ghost. Take your seats. 

(They do so.) 
Calla Lily. My Mammy she knows. She's seed 'em. 
Miss P. (To Polly.) What is your name? 
Polly. Polly Parrot, tee-hee- hee! 

Miss P. Well, of all the extraordinary names! (Polly continues to gigglas.) 
Joe. 'Taint Polly Parrot, nuther. That's a nickname. Her name's Polly 

Jones. 
Hitty. I^'s Polly Jane Jenkins Jones, fer Marm, and she's six years old, and 

knows most of her letters. 
Nora. Yez didn't ask us where our lissons was. 
Miss P. I was too busy. It is nearly recess time. I will hear you read after 

recess, and question you then. 
Katrinka. You von't need to question us much, aretty. Ve chust read in der 

zegond reading book, und zpell our vords zum vay, und ve gount 'em von, 

doo, vree. 



16 The School at Mud Hollow. 



Calla Lily. We-all learns to write our names, too, Teachah, only we-all can't 
do it yet. 

Miss. P. Now this little boy is the only one left. What is your name? 

Reginald. No matter. 

Miss P. That isn't pretty. Tell me your name. 

Reginald. Tom. (Evalina and Ellowina have been wildly waving their hands.) 

Miss P. Well, Evalina? 

Evalina. He is my youngest brother, ma'am. 

Reginald. I'm your oldest brother, too. 

Evalina. His name is Reginald Algernon De Montmorency Smythe. It's an 
exceedingly euphonious and allergant name, and sounds like he belonged to 
the old English aris to crassy, Mamma says, but he doesn't like it, and wants 
to be called Tom, like a common barn cat. He is nearly six, and Mamma 
says he's the tribberluation of her existence for he's just determined he will 
not be high-toned and proper. 

Ellowina. Mamma says he's just like Papa. He would be called John Smith, 
in spite of tears and entreaties, and he used to eat with his knife! 

Evalina. (Sharply.) Don't tell all you know, Ellowina. 

Teacher. Can you read, Reginald? 

Reginald. No, and don't wanter. (A knock is heard. Miss P. goes to door.) 

Miss P. Won't you come in? (Mrs. West and Willie enter.) 

Mrs West. I am bringing you my only remaining treasure, Miss-Miss? 

Miss P. Pinkham. 

Mrs. West. Ah yes, Miss Pinkham. He is a little spoiled, I fear, but you will 
have no trouble, I think, if you humor him a little. Since his dear Papa 
died, (wipes eyes dainily) he has been my only solace. (Willie has been 
making faces at the pupils. His mother now notices it.) Willie darling, that 
isn't pretty. Take off your cap, love. 

Willie. Rather keep it on. 

Mrs. West. Be Mamma's little gentleman, and take it off. 

Willie. You don't take yours off. 

Mrs. West. Mamrna'll give you a penny if you're good, dear. 

Willie. Off it comes, then. (Throws it on floor. His Mother picks it up.) 

Miss P. Has he ever been to school? 

Mrs. West. Not lately, I have been unable to spare him. He is eight now, 
and I think he should go, so I have brought him. Willie darling, don't wink 
at the little girls. You make them laugh. 

Willie. I want to make 'em laugh. 

Miss P. What is your name, Willie? 

Willie. That's my name. 

Miss P. Willie what? 

Willie. Not Willie What, Willie Darling. (Winks broadly and grins.) 

Mrs. West. Now be a good boy, Willie Darling. His name is William Adol- 
phus West, and he is eight years old. 

WiUie. Well, you always say it that way, Ma. 

Miss P. He has been to school before, of course? 

Mrs. West. Oh yes, in the city, before his sainted Pa died. Pardon my dis- 
play of emotion, but my loss is still quite recent. 

Joe. (Aside.) Not so recent but what she's got an eye on old Jake Benway. 

Evalina. (Aside.) He won't look at her. 



The School at Mud Hollow. 17 

Fritz. (Aside) Nor your mutter, eider, aretty. I pet on der sgool deacher. 

Miss P. Silence in the seats! 

Dan. My seat neber said nuffin'. 

Mrs. West. My tears still flow easily, you see, but I think I can converse now. 

Willie. Yes, Pa's caused you a good many tears first and last, Ma. 

Mrs. West. Be a good boy, Willie darling. He was considered very smart in 
the city. The dear child's health isn't very good, so I never cross or punish 
him, and he must not study too hard, as it might injure his brain. The 
dear boy is very precocious. * 

Miss P. What do you know, Willie? 

Willie. Mighty little. 

Mrs. West. The dear child is so modest. 

Miss P. What did you like best when you went to school? 

Willie. Recess time, and dinner time. 

Miss P. In school hours, I mean? 

Willie. Making the rest of them laugh. 

Mrs. W. Now Willie dai'ling, don't make the teacher think you're a naughty 
boy. Be my own good boy, that's a dear. I fear I've spoiled him a little, 
since his dear papa died. 

Willie. She never spoiled Pa any. He had to stand round. 

Mrs. West. Be good, Willie darling. Would you like to examine him? 

Miss P. Not at present. Find a seat, Willie. (Willie seats himself by Kat- 
rinka, and pulls one of her braids.) 

Katrinka. (Clutching his hair.) You chust sit yourselluf down zumveres else, 
aind it. You don't peen a-going to zit mit me aretty, you Villie poy. 

Miss P. Take an empty seat, Willie. (Willie tugs at one.) 

Willie. I can't take it, cause it's nailed down. 

Joe. (Sitting him forcibly down.) Take it that way, smarty. 

Mrs. West. Goodby Willie darling. Be a good boy. Be easy with him, 
won't you? 

Miss P. Yes indeed. He has a few things to learn, but I've no doubt he will 
learn them. Goodbye. Mrs. West goes out. (Miss P. turns to Willie.) 

Miss P. Now Willie, in what class are you? 

Willie. Third Reader, I guess. 

Miss P. You guess? Answer me correctly, and do not try any more showing 
off. A loud knock is heard. Miss P. goes to door. Hannah Ann enters, drag- 
ging Lyddy Jane after her.) 

Hannah. I suppose you're the new teacher? 

Miss P. I am. 

Hannah. H'm! I don't see anything very pretty about you. 

Miss P. I am not aware that I said there was. Did you come here to in- 
sult me? 

Hannah. No, I come to bring this plague taked youngun to school, 'cause I 
couldn't drive her to come alone, but I want you to understand that Hank 
Jenkins is my beau, and you needn't to smile any more of your pink and 
white smiles at him, as you did when he druv yer from the deepo. I won't 
have it, do you hear? 

Miss P. You don't want me to frown at him, do you? 

Hanna. Yes I do. Comin' home and telling me how pretty you be! The 
idee! If you're so dead set on getting a feller, you set your cap fer Jake 
Benway, same as the other old maids and widdys does, and let Hank be. 



18 The School at Mud Hollow. 



(Gives Lyddy a shake.) Now you be good, Lyddy Jane, or she'll lick yer. 

Miss P. What is your name, little girl? (Lyddy hangs head.) 

Hannah. (Shaking her.) Why don't you answer up? Her name's Lyddy Jane 
Brown, and she's five years old. She's my sister, or rauther, ha'f sister. If 
she don't mind, lick her. She don't know nuthin' but mebbe you can teach 
her a little, if you take your mind off 'n Hank long 'nuff . Jest you remember, 
he's spoke fur. (Pushes Lyddy Jane towards Miss P. and flounces out.) 

Joe. (As Miss P. leads her to seat.) Hank's dretful henpecked a'ready, but 
Hannah's got an ant who's got a waodlot. 

Miss P. Don't talk without permission. 

Joe. No-um. Here comes Jake Benway. 

Miss P. That man? 

Joe. Yep, that man. He aint harnsum, but he's got money. 

Terry. And he wants him a wife, Tacher. Smile your prittiest, now. 

Fritz. Blease gan ve haf recess, vile you get acquainted? 

Miss P. Yes, it is recess time now. (Strikes bell. Children run out. She 
takes a tiny mirror from her desk, and primps.) 

Miss P. (Aside.) A hundred thousand? It's worth trying for. (Advances 
toward door with a smirk.) One could improve him a little, or keep him in 
his place, perhaps. Here he comes. (Arranges hair.) 

CURTAIN. 



The School at Mud Hollow. 19 

Part II 



(Scene: The Schoolroom, decorated with wild flowers. A settee is provided for 
the company and an extra chair in front for the supervisor. The children are 
dressed in their best, of course, and this may be made as funny as is desirable. 
The curtain rises on the room with all in place, buzzing loudly. All come to 
order at tap of bell.) 

Miss P. We are very glad to see you all at our closing exhibition, and hope 

you will be pleased with what you hear and see. 
Hank. I be. 
Hannah (with a dig of her elbow). You shet up, Hank Jenkins. You've no 

business to be pleased. They aint none of the young 'uns yourn, nor the 

teacher aint, nuther. 
Miss P. Children, we will sing for our visitors, first. We will sing "My 

Country, 'Tis of Thee." 
(She sounds the pitch by means of a tuning fork, and the children sing, first 
standing, as she taps the bell. They sing with great vim, and elaborate gestures.) 
Reuben Ransome. Very good. Ve-ry good. 
Mrs. O'Donnell. So patteryotic. 

Mrs. Smythe. Yes, indeed. There is no song like America to infuse patriot- 
ism into the tender hearts and minds of our offspring. 
Miss P. Shall we have the pieces next, Mr. Benway, or will you examine 

the classes? 
Mr. Benway. I will examine the classes, if you please. 
Mr. Ransome. Yas, Jake, so dew. We want tew know whether aour boys 

and gals air a larnin' of anything, or no. Also, we want tew know haow 

good a sewpervisor we've got. Fire away, Jake. 
Mr. Benway. Call your first class, please, Miss Pinkham. I know how well 

they do, having been a constant visitor, but we want the pairents to know 

likewise. 
Miss P. First class. 

(She calls all classes by bell taps, and they obey fairly well.) 
Mrs. Blossom (while class passes out). Reckon he has been a constan' vis'tah. 

Been in two free times a week, makin' eyes at her. 
Mrs. Smythe: It isn't her he is interested in, but the progress of my eldest 

daughter. 
Mrs. Blossom. Den why don't he kiss yo' Eberleeny 'stead ob kissin' de 

teachah? My Calla Lily she seed him t'other night. 
Mrs. Smythe. The very idearr! 
Mr. Benway. I will hear you read, first. Remember the careful drills given 

you by your excellent teacher, and read as nicely as you can. Page two 

hundred and thirteen. 
(Class turn pages noisily. Choose any well-known poem from a fifth reader of 
thirty years ago. If enough old readers are not available, copy the poem, and 
insert it in any book.) 
Mr. Benway. Miss Evalina may commence. 

Evalina (rising). Page, two hundred thirteen. Lesson forty-four. Subject 

(name of chosen poem). Author (give author's name). Stanza first. 
(She gives each item deliberately, then with a little "h'm" begins to read first 
stanza. She puts on a good many airs, rolls her "r's" and shows off generally.) 



20 The School at Mud Hollow. 

Mr. Benway. Excellent! Excellent, Miss Evalina. You do your teacher 
great credit. Joe. 

(Joe rises and reads second stanza, haltingly. He mispronounces many words, 

gives all a back-country sound.) 

Mr. Benway. You must try harder, Joe, or the girls will get the best of you. 

Joe. H'm! I ain't no widdy man. You best look aout, yerself, Jake Ben- 
way. There's Mis' West, an' Mis' Smith, an' old maid Ketchum an' the 
teacher, all got ther eyes on you. You'd better look out. 

Fritz. I pets on der deacher. 

Miss Ketchum. Call that boy to order, Miss Pinkham. 

Miss P. Be quiet, boys. Dorcas Ann may read. 

(Dorcas Ann rises, and reads the third stanza, in a crisp, emphatic way.) 

Mr. Benway. Very good, very good, indeed. Now Fritz. 

(Fritz rises and reads the fourth stanza in Dutch dialect.) 

Mr. Benway. Very good, considering. 

Mrs. O'Donnell. Sure, an' I couldn't make out a worrud of it,, at all, at all, 
the hay thin! 

Mrs. Van Hummel (nodding at her). Ya, mine Vritz he read pooty vine 
aretty. He vill a great sgolar pe. 

(// the poem has more than four verses, let them read in turn to the end.) 

Mr. Benway. You read very well. I will not ask you to spell, as the great 
test will come at the spelling school next week, when we hope tew spell 
down the Skeeter Corner Skewl. Remember, if the prize is won by this 
deestrick, I'll double it. Arithmetic next. Miss Evalina, you may go to 
the board, and find the amount of one hundred thousand dollars for one 
year, at compound interest, compounded quarterly, at four per cent. 

Evalina. If you please, Mr. Benway, I would like to be excused from ad- 
vancing upon the blackboard when robed in my finest garments. Chalk 
is injurious to them. Besides, I know the answer. 

Mr. Benway. Well, give the answer, if you can do it in your head. 

Evalina. I didn't. I did it on paper, for Mamma. The answer is one hun- 
dred four thousand and sixty dollars, and forty cents — if you're a widower 
gentleman. 

Mr. Benway. What has that to do with it? 

Evalina. If you're married, the answer is one hundred thousand dollars. 

Mr. Benway. They do not ask at the bank, my girl, whether a man is mar- 
ried or single. 

Evalina. No sir, but if you were married, your wife would take out that 
thousand dollars interest every quarter, to spend. Mamma said so. 

Mr. Benway. Indeed, would she? 

Miss P. Mr. Benway's money would still be his own, Evalina, in any case. 

Mrs. Smythe. Hear the smooth-tongued school teacher! She wouldn't use 
any of it, of course. Oh, no! 

Mrs. West. He should wed some one with a competence of her own, I should 
think. 

Miss Ketchum. Yes, so should I think so, but that aint you. He won't wed 
no widders, you mark my words. 

Mrs. West. Nor old maids. 

Miss Ketchum. Who's an old maid? 

Hannah. The teacher. Stop staring at her as if you wanted to eat her, 
Hank Jenkins. 



The School at Mud Hollow. 21 



■ v:s him a dig in the ribs.) 
Hank. Wal, she looks pooty enough to eat. 
L r. Benway. Joe, if you had a hundred acre lot — 
J c. But I haint, not yit. 
Llr. Benway. And you gave one quarter to your sister Hitty, and one eighth 

to your sister Polly, how many acres would you have left? 
J>e. A hundred. 

Mr. Benway. Oh no, Joe, try again. 
Joe. Don't need ter try agin. I'd hev a hundred acres left, 'cause I shouldn't 

do no sech dividin'. What you s'pose I've kep a comin' to skewl fer, arter 

Granny Baker died, ef 'twarn't to keep them pesky gals fum gittin' my 

prop'ty? I shan't dew no sharin' with nobuddy, thet's flat. 
Miss P. He only wants to see if you can do the example, Joe. 
Joe. No marrn, I can't do on sech example. I know the answer I'd give 

the pesky gals every straight time. 
Mr. Ransome. Thet's right, Joe. Yew stick tew thet. Never yew let the 

wimmen folkses git the best o' yew. "Hold fast thet you can git" is my 

motter. 
Mr. Benway. Dorcas Ann, what is interest? 

Dorcas Ann (hesitatingly). Interest — interest is — is — interest is interesting. 
Mr. Benway. It certainly is; but I would like a definition. (Evalina waves 

.hand.) Well, can you give it, Evalina? 
Evalina. Interest is that which an unmarried female of marriageable age 

takes in an eligible man. 
Hank. Haw, haw, haw! Pretty good. She's got it down pat for a gal of 

uncertain age, haint she, Harnah? 
Hannah. Shet up, Hank Jenkins. She didn't get it right. 
Hank. Didn't she, though? 
Air. Ransome. Pass it along to the boy, Jake. 
Mr. Benway. Fritz, do you know what interest is? 
Fritz. Yah, I do know that aretty. It is vot you dake in our new sgool- 

deacher. You zed id vos, last veek, ven you holt her hand after sgool 

vos led out. 
Hank. Good for you, Dutchy. Here's a copper for you. (Tosses him one.) 
Mr. Benway. Joe, do you know what interest is? 

Joe. You kin jest bet your bottom dollar thet I dew. Interest is the money 
they gin yew at the bank if you keep your check book in your hip pocket, 
and watch the wimmin. It's money paid for the use of money, but the 
wimmin never pay it. 

Mr. Ransome. I'm surprised thet a grandchild of mine doesn't know what 
interest is. 

Dorcas Ann. Well, why should I, Grandsir, when I never see any money. 
Start a bank book for me, and I'll learn. 

Mr. Ransome. By hemlock, I will. 'Til all come tew you some day, for 
I'm no fool to git married twice. No excuse for being roped in the second 
time, when you've cut your wisdom teeth. Fust time, a man don't know 
no better. From now on, Dorcas Ann, you'll own a bank book, but don't 
think fur a minute thet you're a goin' tew handle any of thet money while 
I live. Your interest will stay and pile up, as it oughter. 

Mrs. Smythe. She'll make it fly, some day. 



22 The School at Mud Hollow. 

Mr. Ransome. She might if she was a Smith, but she's a Ransome. They're 
all prudent; it's in the blood, ma'am. 

Mrs. Smythe. My name is Smythe, if you please, not Smith. Smith is a 
low, vulgar cognomen, unworthy to be included in the nomenclature of 
the elegant intricacies of the rosy rhetoric of our elaborate English lan- 
guage. 

Mr. Ransome. I don't understand all them fine words, marm, and I'm blessed 
if I believe you do, but your husband was Johnny Smith when he lived 
here, and I don't believe livin' in the city ever made him into a Smythe. 

Mrs. Smythe. The idearrr! 

Mr. Benway. Don't talk so much back thar. I'm a-hearin' this class. Eva- 
lina, what's a fraction? 

Evalina. No part. 

Mr. Benway. No part? What do you mean? What makes you think that's 
the answer? 

Evalina. Mamma said so. 

Mrs. Smythe. Why, Evalina, I never ventriloquated such an arithmetical 
solution in all the thirty years of my life. 

Hank. Thirty! H'm! Nigher fifty. 

Evalina. You did, Mamma. You said if Miss Pinkham was a fraction of a 
lady, she's stop flirting so disgracefully with Mr. Benway, and when I 
inquired the meaning of that, you said she was no part of a lady. 

Mrs. Blossom. Don' yer fling roun' too many pussonalities, chile. Let de 
teachah be. 

Fritz. I knows vot a vraction be, aretty. It vos a biece or pieces out of 
der whole of anyding vot aint whole aretty, aint it. You writes him in 
dwo stories, mit a vloor betwixt dem. Der lower sdory shows how many 
dere vos ov him, and der ubber sdory shows how many pieces you git out 
of him. Iv you vos a fraction, Mr. Zubervizor, maybe der vimmin vould 
divide, und not make oogly eyes at von annodder. 

Mr. Benway. That's enough of this class. Take your seats. Next class! 
(They come forward.) You may recite in Geography. Maria, what is 
Geography? 

Maria. A big book. 

Mr. Benway. To be sure; but what does it treat of? 

Maria. Nawthin'. 

Mr. Benway. Oh yes, it does. Think again. m 

Maria (beginning to snuffle). It don't either. Mine never did. 

Dan. Nor mine nebbah, needah. Deed it nebbah did, sah. 

Mr. Benway. Next boy. 

Terry. Shure, an' I'm thinkin' thet it's the wrong kind of Geographies we 
do be havin'. Maybe yours used to trate, Mr. Binway, but sorra a bit 
do ours do it, at all, at all. Niver so much as a lollipop, or a hunk of gum 
have thim measly Geographies iver trated us to, bedad, since furst we 
got thim, bad 'cess to thim!' 

Hitty. The book says it treats the earth and the destruction thereof. 

Miss P. Structure, you mean, Hitty. 

Hitty. Yes'm. That's what I said. 

Terry. Sure, an' what does it treat the earth to? 

Hitty. I dunno. 

Terry. Naythur do I, bedad. 



The School at Mud Hollow. 23 

Mr. Benway. What is the earth? 

Terry. Land an' wather an' mud an' rocks an' trees an' bushes an' houses 

an' hills — 
Mr. Benway. There, there, boy! That's enough. That is what it consists 

of; but what is it? 
Terry. Sure an' it's all thim things an' a lot more. 
Mr. Benway. Dan, what is the earth? 
Dan. A monst'ous football, a-spinnin' itse'f along on nuffin'. It goes roun' 

an' roun' like a crazy crittah, dat-a-way. {He whirls his fist round swiftly, 

at the same time describing a large circle in the air.) Fust yo' see ole Massa 

Sun, and den yo' see ole Mis' Moon, and dat make day an' night; an' 

de big cuhcle, dat make — dat make — (scratches head). Now what do dat 

make? Dat make a yeah, caze it takes a yeah to do dat-all. 
Mr. Benway. Very good. Next, Maria, into what is it divided? 
Maria. Land and sea. 
Mr. Benway. How much of each? 
Maria. I dunno. My book never said. 
Mr. Benway. But what part is land? 
Maria. The — the outside. 
Mr. Benway. There, there, don't begin to cry again. What fraction, I 

mean? 
Maria. I dunno. 
Terry. Sure an' I know. It's a quarter land, and the rist water, and bedad, 

I b'lave I know what makes so much more wet. It's because Maria cries 

so many tears she overflows it. 
Mrs. O'Donnell. Sure an' the bye is right. The little spalpeen yells ivery 

blissid minute. 
Maria (sobbing). If my Ma hadn't stayed — home — with the baby, y-y-ou 

wouldn't a made -f-fun o' me. I'm a-goin' to -to -t-t-tell her, I am. 
Mr. Benway. What is a lake? 
Terry. Sometimes it's a big puddle, an' sometimes it's a hole in the tay- 

kittle. 
Mr. Benway. What is a mountain? 
Dan. When de Ian' hump itse'f — so! (holds his hands to form a point). A 

li'l mounting am a hill, an' de low Ian' atween 'em am a valley. 

Mr. Benway. What's a plateau? 

Dan. A plattah? Somefin' to hole de fried po'k an' aigs. 

Hitty. The book says it's a high plain, and a plain's a flat place, so a pla- 
teau must be a flat mounting. 

Mr. Benway. What's a river? 

Terry. Some water that lays in its bed, but won't kape still. Sure it's al- 
ways a runnin' away by itself, an' yit it's always there, jist the same as iver. 
It has a bank on aither side of itself, an' the place where it begins is its 
sauce, an' where it impties itself is its mouth, but it's a paceable thing, 
and niver answers back, because its sauce is so far from the mouth of it. 
It has branches, jist for all the worruld loike a tree, and it always runs 
down hill, bedad, but a founting runs up hill. 

Mr. Benway. A very good definition. Dan, what is a gulf or bay? 

Dan. A gulf am when yo' swaller hard, an' a bay am what de houn' dogs 
do when dey bark. 



24 The School at Mud Hollow. 



Terry. A gulf or bay is a bite out of the saycoast, where the wather comes 
up. 

Mr. Benway. You have a very vivid way of describing things, my boy. 
You'll be an editor some day. 

Hitty. My book says it's an indenteration in the coast line. 
Mr. Benway. Just so. Maria, what are the poles? 
Maria. What you go a-fishin' with. 
Mr. Benway. No. Next. 
Dan. What de men folkses vote at. 
Mr. Benway. No, no. Next. 
Terry. Thim pisky furriners. 
Mr. Benway. No, no. Hitty. 
Hitty. Axe handles. 

Mr. Benway. Think a minute. Can none of you tell what the poles are? 
Hitty. North Pole and South Pole; but they are axe handles. My book 
. says so. 

Mr. Benway. Oh, I think not. 
Hitty. It does too. It says the earth turns on its axes, and the ends of the 

axes are called poles, and the end of an axe is the handle. 
Mr. Benway. Axis, you mean, my dear. 
Hitty. I said axes. 
Mr. Ransome. She sartinly did, Jake. She's in the right on't. 

Mr. Benway. That will do, class. Next class. (Next class comes out.) You 
may read on page twenty. (Find places noisily.) Katrinka, you may 
begin. 
Katrinka. Bage dwendy. Lesson vourdeen. Zubject, Gitty und Mouzie. 
Verze one. 

Vunce dere vos a leedle gitty, 

Vite as der znow. 
Een der parn he uzed do vrolic, 
Long dime ergo. 
Mr. Benway. Very good. Nora. 
Nora. (Hangs her head and reads low.) 
In the barrun a little mousie 

Ran to and fro, 
For she hearrd the little kitty 
Long time ago. 
Mr. Benway. Read it again, louder. 
Mrs. O'Donnell. Shpake up, colleen, and hould up the hid of yer. Mither 

wants to hear. 
(Nora repeats the stanza, louder, with a decided brogue.) 
Mrs. O'Donnell. Will done, me gurrul. Shure an' thot will plaze ye, Jake 

Bin way. 
Mr. Benway. Very good, that time. Ellowina, you may read the next 

verse. 
Ellowina. Two bl-ack eyes had little kitty, 
Bl-ack as a cr-row. 
And they spied the little mousie! 
L-long time ago. 
(She puts on airs as she reads. The first two lines she reads tragically, the third 



The School at Mud Hollow. 25 

triumphantly, on a high key, with the "spied" strongly emphatic. The last 
line she drags out as slowly as possible.) 

Mrs. Smythe. Ellowina elocutes beautiferously. I shall have her educated 

for an actress — a star! 
Mr. Benway. Exceedingly well read, my dear. Calla Lily, you may read 

next. 
Calla Lily. De fo'th vuss? 
Mr. Benway. Certainly. 

Calla Lily. Fo' sof pawses had li'l kitty, 
Pawses sof as snow; 
An' dey cotched de li'l mousie, 
Long time 'go. 
Mr. Benway. Very good, my dear, but you should say caught, not "cotch- 
ed." 
Mrs. Blossom. Cotched is de right word. " Cot " don' mean nuffin. 
Mr. Benway. Now Willie, the fifth verse. 

Willie. Nine pearl teeth had little kitty, 

All in a row, 
And they bit the little mousie, 

Long time ago. 
(He reads it as fast as possible, without a stop.) 
Mr. Benway. Slower, boy, slower. Try again. 

(Willie reads it again. This time he makes a stop between every two syllables, 
jerking them out, loudly.) 

Mr. Benway. Not much better, my boy. You may read the last verse in 
concert. 

All. When the teeth bit little mousie, 
Mousie cried out "Oh!" 
But she ran away from kitty, 
Long time ago. 

(Each reads in her own particular dialect or manner. Of course they do not 
keep together.) 

Mr. Benway. That isn't reading in concert. You did not keep together. 
You'll have to try again. 

Mr. Ransome. Oh, come naow, Jake, thet's tew much! Bet they hain't ary 
five grownups in this ere taownship thet could read thet vuss, an' keep 
tergether. Taint in reason ter spect sech a thing. Thet will dew, class. 

Mr. Benway. Yes, that will do. (Class goes to seal.) I think it would hardly 
be edifying to listen to the ABC class, so we will proceed to the exherbi- 
tion. Have you a program, Miss Pinkham? 

Miss P. Certainly. (Hands him a sheet of paper.) 

Mr. Benway. First we will listen to a greeting by Master Reginald Alger- 
non De Montmorency Smythe. (He reads the full name of each child as 
impressively as possible.) 

(Reginald looks down and scowls, but makes no move towards Mr. Benway.) 
Mr. Benway. Reggie, didn't you hear your name called? 

Reginald. Was that my name? There was so much of it, I forgot the first 

before you got through. 
Mrs. Smythe. Go speak your piece, Reginald dear. 
Reginald (going slowly forward) . Wish my name was Tom. 



26 The School at Mud Hollow. 

Mrs. Smythe. It is so intensely discouraging, when I bestowed upon my 
only son the most mellifluously flowing, euphomlous, high sounding appel- 
lation I could find, to have him so boorish as to detest it. 

Mr. Ransome. Ah, he's Johnny Smith's own boy. Say, Tom, I'll gin ye a 
copper arter school. 

(Reginald, who has stood in the floor, scowling, now makes a cross little bow, 

and begins.) 

Reginald. Dear friends, we're sorry you have come 
To stare at us today. 
We hope you'll hate it all so bad 
Next time you'll stay away. 

(Runs to seat.) 

Miss P. Why Reginald! That wasn't your piece, at all! Where did you 

get it? 
Reginald. Willie. 
Mrs. West. The idea! As if my Willie would make a verse like that, even 

if he could! Stand up, Willie darling, and tell your teacher you didn't. 
Wille. I didn't. That is, I didn't make it. I taught it to Reg, though. 
Mrs. Smythe. Reginald, go right back and speak your piece properly. 
Reginald. Said it the way I meant it, this time. (Goes out again; recites.) 
Dear friends, I think you're all a sight 

Rigged in your best today. 
I got a new collar. It scratches my neck 
So I can't think of nothin' to say. 
(Runs to seat.) 

Mrs. Smythe. Reginald, if you don't speak that piece correctly, I shall ad- 
minister summary chastisement. 
Reginald (as she starts toward him). I will Mamma, I will! (Runs out and 
speaks again.) 

Dear friends, Miss Pinkham's awful glad 

Jake Benway's here today. 
She's so busy making eyes at him. 
She won't know what we say. 

Mr. Benway. See here, boy, how many more ways can you say that? 
Reginald. Three more beside the right one. 

Mr. Benway. Wal, you needn't. Next, a song, "The Pickaninny's Lull- 
aby," by Miss Calla Lily Blossom. 

Calla Lily advances, with a black rag doll, to which she sings any suitable darky 
lullaby. There are plenty of these to be found. She sings it well, in dialect, 
of course, tending the baby as she sings. If desired, she may have a little rock- 
ing chair, which the teacher brings from off the stage. This number will be very 
cute, if given by a good little singer. If encored, she returns and recites:) 

Hesh! 1 Don' cry caze dey clap us back! 

Dey 2 aint mad, now dat's a fac'. 

Hesh! 3 Boogah 4 man'll git yo' ! Dat's 5 right now. 

Wipe 6 yo' eyes, an' make dem a bow. 

Go 8 'way, Boogah man! Shet yo' haid! 

Dis' 9 pickaninny's gwine straight to bed. 

Motions. (1, cuddle doll, and pat her. 2, Look earnestly into doll's face. 8, Shake 
doll. 4, Holds doll out, shakes finger at her. 5, Brings doll near. 6, Make doll 
wipe its eyes. 7, Holds doll toward audience, and makes her bow. 8, Cuddle 



The School at Mud Hollow. 27 

doll close on left arm, wave "boogah man" away with right hand. 9, Takes 
doll over shoulder, goes to seat.) 

Mrs. Blossom. Didn't dat bressed chile do well? Dey clapped her back 
dey did. 

Mr. Benway. Very good, very good, indeed. Next, we will listen to a reci- 
tation, entitled, "Little White Lily," by Miss Maria Nancy Bascom. 

(Maria does not stir.) Come, Maria! 

Maria. I don't wanter. 

Miss P. Oh yes, you do. Come out and speak it, nicely. 

Maria (sniffing). I've furgot it. 

Mr. Benway. Miss Pinkham, make that child come out here and speak her 

piece. 
Miss P. Certainly. Now Maria, come, or I shall come after you. 
Maria. Don't wanter. 
(Miss P. leads her out by force.) 

Miss P. Now speak it. (No answer.) Little White Lily, 
Maria (snuffling as she speaks). 

Little white lily, sat — by a stone, 
Drooping and — waiting, till — till — till- 
Miss P. The sun, 
Maria. Till the sun shone. 

Little white lily — I furgit. 
Miss P. Sunshine, 
Maria. Sunshine has fed, oh dear! 

L-1-little wh-wh-white lily is — is — is- 
Miss P. Lifting. 

Maria. L-1-lifting her head! (Ends in a scream.) 
Mr. Benway. Go on. 

Maria. I-I-d-d-d-don't wanter! They're all a-a-1-l-looking at me! Stop it! 
(She buries her face in her apron and cries loudly.) 
Mr. Ransome. There, get to your seat, M'ria, for the land's sake. We 

haint a-goin' to eat ye. 
(Maria does so.) 

Hank. I naver saw sech a bawlbaby in all my life as that ere M'ria Bascom. 
Hannah. I wish Mis' Bascom was here. She's straighten her out! Give 

her somep'n to yell about, ef she war mine! 
Mrs. Blossom. No dangah ob dey callin' dat li'l gal back. 
Mr. Benway. Next, we will hear a recitation, called "Mother," by Master 

Fritz Van Hummel. 
Mrs. Smythe. Ah, I love to hear the young offspring properly appreciate 

the maternal parent, and give abundant tribute to her memorial! 
Mr. Ramsome. Haul in yer horns, and let the Dutch boy speak his piece. 
Fritz. I uzed to go to zee her, mine brecious leedle Bearl, 

Her mutter vos a vidder, mit chust von charming gurl. 
Her mutter alvays met me at der door, mit smiling look, 
And made me sday to zupper. She vos a dandy gook ! 

Vot choy to guide an automobubble, mit Bearl in der donneau! 
Of gourse, her mutter went, alzo, vor zhappyrone, you know. 
Vot pliss, upon der rifer to sofly, smootly vloat, 
Mit Bearl, mine own adored von, and mutter, in der poat! 



28 The School at Mud Hollow. 

'Tvos creat to dance dcr dango, mit Bearl, mine vairest pet, 
But mutter, she vos dance him, too, zo I asg her, too, you pet! 
'Tvos vine to sgate mit Bearlie, and hold her leedle hand, 
But mutter, oh mine gootness! She sgate, too, to beat der band! 

Von night I vos gone gourting, mine mind made up, you know, 
To bop der guestion, bang! dot night, I lofe mine tarling so! 
And now? Veil, now I'm marriet, dough nixie I knows how, 
Vor it vos mutter marriet me! Bearl galls me "Fader" now! 

Hank. Pretty good, that. Look out for your mother, Everleeny, when 

beaux begin to come your way. 
Mrs. Smythe. I think it was extremely, artroci-ously vulgar! 
Mrs. Van Hummel (nodding at her). Yah, I dinks him pretty vine, mine- 

selluf, aretty. 
Hank (clapping loudly). Come back, Dutchy, and say another. 
Fritz. I didn't learn me anudder, gauze vy, I didn't been had der dime, ven 

I got him so I gould zay him mitout butting any aretty 's in vere day didn't 

ought to vos, Chee! It vos hard work! 
(7/ desired, he may come back, instead of saying this, and repeat any piece in 
Dutch dialect.) 
Mr. Benway. Next, we will listen to music by the orchestry. 

(The orchestra, consisting of Joe, Fritz, Dan, Terry, Evalina, Dorcas Ann, 
and Hitty, come forward. Joe has a jewsharp; Fritz, a drum; Dan, "the 
bones"; Evalina, a harmonica; Hitty, a triangle; Dorcas Ann, a comb; and 
Terry puts his hands in his pockets, and whistles. They play any old piece, 
such as "Old Zip Coon," or "Ole Dan Tucker." Of course, the "band instru- 
ments" may be distributed differently to suit the capabilities of the performers, 
but Dan must have "de bones.") 
Mr. Benway. Next, we will be pleased to hear a recitation, entitled, "Little 

Star," by Miss Lyddy Jane Brown. 
Hank. Guess we will. 

(Lyddy hesitates, and looks at Hank, then at Hannah.) 
Hannah. Go on, Lyddy Jane. 

Hank. Yes, go on and whoop her up, Lyddy, just like you did for me. Re- 
member what I promised ye. 
(Lyddy goes out, bows, giggles, then recites. She lisps, but speaks well otherwise.) 

Lyddy. Any girl that getth a kith, 

And ninth and tellth her mother, 

Ought to live to be an old maid, 

And never get another. 
Hannah. The idea! You've been a-learnin' her that, Hank Jenkins. 
Hank. Wal, I did hear her rehearse a few times. 
Miss P. Say your piece correctly, Lyddy. 
Hank. Oh, yes, that's the wrong one, Lyddy. Say the other. 
(Lyddy giggles again, then recites.) 

Don't kith your girl before her mother, 

'Tithn't nith to do. 

Wait till you get her in the dark, 

Then kith and hug her, too. 
Miss P. That isn't right, Lyddy. Say, "Twinkle, twinkle, little star." 



The School at Mud Hollow. 29 

Lyddy. Hank thaid it wath right. He thaid that wath the way he alwayth 
did. 

Mr.Benway. Pretty good, pretty good! I cal'late it is the way he does. 

Lyddy. He thaid it wath the way you did, when you went to thee the teatther. 

Mr. Ransome. Haw, haw, haw! One on you, Jake! 

Mrs. Smythe. The impertinent little minx! 

Mrs. West. But if Mr. Jenkins told her to, she's too young to know better. 

Miss Ketchum. So's your Willie Darling, I suppose, when he cuts up shines. 

She needs a good trouncing. 
Hannah. And she'll git it, if she don't speak that piece. 
Lyddy. I can't. The retht of you talk tho mutth. 
Hank. Fire ahead, Lyddy, and give them their little star, if they like that 

better than my poor poetry. Pretty good, I called it. 
Miss P. Yes, speak it pretty, now, and put in your gestures. 
Lyddy. Twinkel, 1 twinkel, little thtar, 

You're 2 an old maid, that' thwhat 3 you are! 
Peekin' 4 through the cloudth to thee 
Whoth in the hammock, 5 a-thpoonin' with me! 8 
Motions. (1, hands high, move fingers rapidly. 2, point upward, with right 
forefinger. 3, shake fist in same direction. 4, make circle with thumb and fore- 
finger, and peep through. 5, hugs herself. 6, ends with a loud smack, and an 
"oh" in imitation of her sister.) 

Mr. Ransome. (As she lakes her seat.) Speak another, Lyddy Jane, do! 
Lyddy. I can't. That'th all I know. Hank didn't teatth me any more. 
Miss P. I should hope not. 
Hannah. You wait till you git home. 
Hank. You let her be, Harner. I gin her a quarter to do it. 
Hannah. Better kept your quarter, and let her behave herself. 
Mr. Benway. Now we will listen to a song, "Grandma's Advice," by Miss 

Evalina Margarita Gwendolyn Smythe. 
Mr. Ransome. By chowder! I never heerd sech starched-up names in all 

my born days as the ones thet's ben tagged onto Johnny Smith's young-uns. 

No wonder he died! Wore his lungs'n throat aout a-trying to call 'em by 

name. (Sees Evalina, who has made an elaborate bow, waiting.) Go on, 

Ewy. Whoop her up. 
Mrs. Smythe. Her name is Evalina. 
Mr. Ransome. Ever leaner! Land sakes, marm, she gets ever fatter, and 

she outgrows her petticuts amazin' fast. 
Miss Ketchum. Scandalous, sech short skirts be! Looks like a ballet dancer. 
Mr. Benway. Miss Smythe will sing if the others will keep quiet. 
(Evalina sings the old song, "My Grandma lives on yonder little green," or any 
chosen song. She should sing it with many airs. At the close she is encorod, 
and glides back, bows elaborately, clasps her hands to her breast, says, "Oh, my 
friends, I thank you for this appreciative compillament! " and responds with the 
last verse of the song.) 
Mrs. Smythe. No other child here has the elegant, graceful manners of my 

Evalina. 
Mr. Ransome. I sh'd hope not. 'Twould be a national c'lamity ef 'twas 

ketchin'. 
Mr. Benway. Now we will hear "Casabianca" by Master William Adolphus 

West. 



30 The School at Mud Hollow. 



Willie. The girl stood on the steamboat deck, 
With fire darting round. 
She didn't move, but how she yelled ! 
It was a fearful sound. 

"All to the boats!" the captain cried, 
"We cannot stand the heat," 
The maiden wildly shook her head, 
And pointed at her feet. 

"Come, stir your stumps" a sailor said, 
"Or find a fiery grave." 
"I can't! I can't!" she wildly cried, 
"Oh save me, someone! Save!" 

Was it heroism kept her when 
She for the boat should spurt? 
Ah no, 'twas fashion held her tight — 
She wore a hobble skirt! 

(Hank and Mr. Ransome applaud loudly, Mrs. Blossom, Mrs. O'Donnell 

and Mrs. Hummel joining in.) 

Mrs. West. Go back, Willie darling, and speak it again. 

Willie. Don't sell my cabbages twice. 

Mr. Benway. That wasn't quite the way we used to speak it when I was a boy. 

Miss P. It isn't the way I taught it to him, either. I don't know what has 

got into the children today. 
Mr. Ransome. _ Let 'em be. It's the most interesting exherbishing this ere 

skewl ever gin yet. Say another, Willie. 

Willie. 'Tis springtime. Lo, the farmer 
In overalls and shirt, 
Is busy ploughing, harrowing, 
And digging in the dirt. 

Why does he work so willingly? 
His family to feed? 
To keep them all in shoes and hats 
And dresses? No, indeed! 

It is to feed the browntail moth, 
The gypsy moth, the crow, 
The cutworm and potato bug, 
The farmer labors so. 

Mr. Ransome. Right ye be, Bill, right ye be! That's the best yet! 
Mrs. West. The dear boy will be a great poet some day, I'm sure. 
Hannah. A jail bird, more likely I don't call it smart. I call it contrariness. 
Mr. Ransome. They's others, Harner, they's others. 

Mr. Benway. Next on this most interesting programme is a recitation en- 
titled " Mary's Lamb," to be given by Miss Katrinka Van Hummel. 

Katrinka. (Bobbing a curtesy.) 

Mary had von leedle lamb aretty 

Mit vleas as vite as der snow vos peen, 

Und eferyvere dot fraulein vent 

Dot leedle lamb he drotted along also. 



The School at Mud Hollow. 31 

He vollowed her to sgool zurn day — • 

It vasn't allowed vor lambs to peen in sgool. 

Dem children day laugh zum more, und blay and choke, 

To zee a leedle vite zheep dere in der sgoolroom. 

Und zo der deacher she make him drot himselluf right oud; 
Put he didn't go home aretty, he vrisked him around, 
And vaggled his leedle vooly dail, and blatted 
Mit all his might, dill Mary she gome out to recess. 

Und den he run to Mary, und he poked 
His nose up in her hand, und licked it all nice und glean, 
Und zay, "I nix did gare vor dat old deacher, zhe 
Von't hurd me any more aretty, ven Mary vos here. 

"Vot makes der lamb so much lof Mary?" 
Der leedle children dey asg dot deacher, ven zhe gum out. 
" Vy, dot leedle lamb, he don't vos know any petter" 
Der deacher zaid; und der lamb he zay "Baa!" 
Hank. So that's the Dutch of " Mary had a little lamb," is it? Good change 

from the English, I say. 
Mr. Ransome. We will now listen to some more music by the orchestra. 
{Orchestra come out, and play any chosen tune. They should have a bit of difficulty 
getting started.) 
Mr. Benway. Pretty good! Pretty good! I'm very fond of music, myself. 

My favorite tune is "Yankee Doodle." Can you play that? 
Joe. You bet. Give it to him. (They play it.) 
Mr. Benway. Next, we have a recitation, "The Widow McCarthy's Pig," 

by Master Terence O'Hara O'Conner O'Donnoll. 
Mrs. Blossom. Fo' de land's sake, what make dat man keep a-sayin' "O" 

when he call dat boy to speak him piece? 
Mrs. O'Donnell. Sure, and he jist called out the roight name of the bye. 
Thim be good ould Oirish names, ivery wan av thim. Shpake up, Terry, 
me lad. We'll listen. 

Terry. An' is it a shtory ye're wantin'? 

Kape shtill, thin, stop dancin' a jig, 
An' Oi'll till yez a tale av Oild Oirland 
An' the Widdy McCarthy's pig. 
She lived in a bit av a cabin 
Jist forninst the aidge av the moor, 
Wid a wee bit o' land all around it 
Where the praties grew up to the dure. 

Arrah, no, choild, she warn't a poor widdy, 
'Twas her own, if it warn't very big; 
And in a noice pin in the corner 
She kept her a bit av a pig. 
Ah, he war a lane little rashcal, 
Wid the sassiest bit av a snout, 
Always a-rootin' and huntin' 
To find him a way to git out. 

Sure he'd root an' he'd root till he found it — 
And he found it most ivery day — 
An' he'd shquaze the lane lingth av him under, 
An' gaily he'd gallop away. 



32 The School at Mud Hollow. 

Wid his nose he would root up the praties — 
Oh, couldn't he jist turn 'em out! 
Jist a toss av the head av him sideways, 
An' a shake av his wicked pink shnout. 

Now the widdy'd a neighbor forninst her, 
An' Dinnis O'Dowd was his Dame; 
Si"h a jolly gossoon, though not handsome, 
laat nobody'd found out that same. 
He had curly rid hair, loike a carrot, 
An' the sassiest pug av a nose, 
And frickles as thick as a shpatter 
Of rain on the chake av a rose. 

But he'd always the jolliest whistle, 

And a shmoile that war roguish an' big, 

An' he'd shmoile in the rain or the sunshine. 

He had even a shmoile for the pig! 

He had both his blue eyes on the widdy, 

But she wouldn't be lookin' at him, 

For she'd vowed that she'd not agin marry, 

But be true to the mim'ry av Jim. 

But whiniver she'd say "No" to Dinnis, 
He'd shmoile his nice shmoile, broad an' big, 
An' say, "Thin I'll ask yez termorror; 
An' now I'll make love to the pig." 
An' thin, wid his hands in his pockets, 
To the pin he would saunter away, 
And he'd wink at the pig; and bedad, now, 
That pig would dig out ivery day. 

Thin Dinnis, the handiest neighbor, 
Had to hilp her to catch him, av coorse, 
So they grew, ivery day, better neighbors; 
But that pig — ivery day he got worse; 
Till at last she said " Yis" to young Dinnis, 
An' made him the gladdest av min; 
For she naded a husband, she tould him, 
For to kape thot woild baste in his pin; 

An' 'twas tired to dith av the runnin' 

To git him to hilp her, she were, 

An' she hoped thot her Jim would forgive her, 

But the pig were too many for her. 

So they had a real Oirish weddin' 

Wid the neighbors all there; and the praste 

Made the pair av thim one, and he blissed thim. 

An' the pig? — Why, he furnished the faste. 

Mr. Ransome. Well said, well said; Mrs. Smith, better buy ye a pig. I've 

got some lively little rooters I'll sell cheap. 
Mrs. Smythe. A pig! The idearrr! 
Mr. Ransome. Wal, mebbe Jake'd come over and fix the pen, ye see. Sell 

ye the liveliest one o' the lot for five dollars. 
Mr. Benway. Next we have a recitation, "June Flowers," by Miss Polly 

Jane Jenkins Jones. (Polly goes out to desk.) 



The School at Mud Hollow. 33 

Polly. Where's my flowers, Teacher? 

Miss P. (Taking them from a jar on the desk.) Here they are, Polly dear. 

Now speak up nicely. 
Polly. Yes'm. 

Buttercups 1 and daisies, and pretty purple clover! 

In June the fields 2 and meadows are fairly running over. 

I gathered all the nicest ones for Mr. Benway 3 dear, 
Our 4 beloved supervisor, who you see a-sitting here. 

The buttercups 5 are purest gold — that's like our love for you. 
The daisy, 6 with its silver fringe, is golden-hearted, too. 

The pretty 7 purple clover is as sweet as sweet can be, 
It carries honey in its heart — a sweetheart true, you see. 

Pretty 8 flowers of Junetime. Don't 9 they look quite jolly? 
I hope that you'll 10 accept the gift from loving little Polly. 11 

Motions. (1, hold flowers out. 2, sweep hands outward. 3, turn toward 
Mr. Benway. 4> point at him, retain position through line. 5, hold out one or 
two buttercups. 6, hold out two or three daisies. 7, hold out two or three clover 
blossoms. 8, hold flowers against face. 9, hold them out and make them dance. 
10, hold them out toward Mr. Benway. 11, goes up to Mr. Benway and holds 
out flowers.) 
Polly. It's from loving little teacher, really, but that didn't rhyme. Teacher 

picked em, and fixed 'em, and teached me the piece, what she writed herself. 
Mr. Benway. (Taking them.) Indeed, my dear, it was very thoughtful of 

your teacher, and I accept them gladly. I think I must kiss the rosy little 

lips that said such a nice piece for me. 
Polly. (Putting hand over mouth.) No, I don't like mens to kiss me. Kiss 

teacher. It's her piece and her posies. (Runs to seat.) 
Miss Ketchum. Well, of all the cheek I ever did hear of, to teach the child a 

piece like that! Making love to the supervisor before us all! Very bold and 

unladylike, don't you think so, Hannah? 
Hannah. I don't keer who she makes love to, if she lets Hank be. She can't 

flirt with my beau. 
Mrs. Smythe. It is incomprehensitive to me how any spinster could so de- 
mean and lower her modest humilertie by writing such a piece of doggerel 

as that. I wouldn't. 
Mr. Ransome. Good reason why. Takes brains. But I'd a gin him suthin' 

besides weeds, ef I'd a ben her. 
Mrs. O'Donnell. Sure, an' 'twas a pretty little pace, I do be thinkin', an' 

the posies was pretty, too, an' so was the little colleen who gave 'em. If 

only I'd a-known, I'd have give her a bit av shamrock to put wid 'em, for 

good luck. 
Mr. Benway. Next on the program is a song by Master Dandelion Blossom, 

entitled, (give title of song chosen. Any good darky song, either a coon song 

of the day, or an old one, like "Old Uncle Ned.") 
(Dan comes out, bows, and sings. He should be able to do it well.) 
Mrs. Blossom. Law! Dat boy's got de music right in him. (They may 
encore Dan, in which case he will give a darky dance. If he and Calla Lilly can 
do the cake walk, it will be good to have them do so. In that case, have Mr. Ran- 
some call for it, at the end of Dan's dance.) 



34 



The School at Mud Hollow. 



Mrs. Blossom. Dem chilluns o' mine got de jingle in dere heels an' toes, as 

well as in dere haids. 
Hank. Right smart little pickaninnies they be, Auntie, for sartin. 
Mr. Benivay. Next is a drill by six little girls, conducted by Miss Evalina 

Margarita Gwendolyn Smythe. 

(Ellowina, Calla Lily, Nora, Katrinka, Polly and Lyddy Jane come out. Evalina 
goes to a corner, and brings out six flags. She gives one to each girl. She stands 
at one side, and gives the commands. The drill will be more amusing if they do 
not keep together, but prettier if they do.) 

Flag Drill. 

"Persition." 

"Salute." 

"Wave." 

"Overhead." 

"Wave." 

"Down." 

"Wave." 

"Up." 

"March." 

"Line." 

"Cross." 

"Raise." 

"Persition." 

"Salute." 

"Arch." 



Flag in right hand, held toward left. 

Step forward with right foot, raise flag high to right. 

Wave high to left, back to right, four tiines. 

Hold flags high overhead. 

Wave in a circle overhead four limes. 

Bring right hand out straight from shoulder. 

Wave flag in that position four limes. 

Raise flag. 

March in circle around Evalina, who steps forward. 

Form line again. 

Cross flags in pairs. 

Raise them in this position. 

As at first. 

As before. 

Two tallest hold flags high, to meet. Others march under, around, 

under again, and next tiro put up flags in front of first two. Two 

smallest ones march through, around, under, and put up flags 

in front. 
"Circle." March in circle, flags held high, in point toward center. 

"Line." Form line as before. 

' ' Recite . " All recite: 

I pledge my heart, 1 I pledge my hand, 2 
To this, 3 my own, my native 4 land. 

Motions. 1, place flag over heart. 2, hold out left hand and touch with flag. 
S, hold flag out. 4. wave flag about shoulder high.) 

"Sing." All sing: 

"Three cheers for the red, white and blue, 
Three cheers for the red, white and blue! 
The army and navy forever! 
Three cheers for the red, white and blue! 

(While singing first line, wave flag, breast high; during second line, wave it high; 
during third line, wave it in circle over head; during fourth line, hold it high in 
right hand, not waving, and gaze upward at it.) 

"Deliver." Evalina again steps forward, the children march around her in 
circle, waving flags, then around again, each passing her flag 
to Evalina, and going on to her seat. Evalina replaces flags, 
and returns to seat. 

(In reciting, and singing, have Nora, Katrinka and Calla Lily each remember 
their particular dialect. Lyddy Jane must lisp. 
Mrs. Van Hummel. Und dot vos der brettiest ting I efer 'zaw. 
Mrs. Smythe. Drills are all the rage in the city. My Evalina trained them 
herself. She has remarkable and unusual talent for one so young in years. 



The School at Mud Hollow. 35 

Mrs. West. Yes, it seemed quite like New York. 

Mr. Benway. Pretty good, pretty good, I call it. Next is a recitation by 
Miss Mehitable Mercy Matilda Jones, entitled: (give title of piece chosen. 
Hitty should recite well — some piece in country dialect preferred.) 

Mr. Benway. Pretty good, pretty good. Shows the excellent taste and 
careful drilling of your teacher. Next is an oration by Master Josiah Joel 
Joseph Jones — entitled "Shall Women Vote?" This gives the masculine 
view of the question, while the comporsition to follow will give the feminine 
eide. Now, Joe. 

Joe. (He should "orate" with fervor, and many awkward gestures.) 
Ladies and gentlemans, friends, Romans and kentrymen, and you city ladies, 
too, listen unto me, and lend me your ears for a short space of time. I 
come to present unto you the one and only sensible side of the question: 
Shall the wimmen folkses vote? Of course, the answer is "No." Right you 
are, my fellowmen. Wimmen must not vote. I repeat it, they must not. 
Why, if wimmen git to votin', they will want to boss the kentry, jest as 
they now boss, each her own man, making him clean his feet before he walks 
over her newly washed kitchen floor. She will want to keep the kentry 
clean, and to keep politics clean, and what a nuisance that will be! She 
will want to do away with liquor — do away with it! Give her the vote, 
and you won't be able to draw a pitcher of cider and git comfortably full 
at your own fireside. She will haste off to the polls at election time, instead 
of staying to home and tending the barn and gitting up a hot supper aginst 
the time you git home from the arduously hard task of governing this ere 
nation. Why, just think of taking your wife to town meeting! She'd 
kick at smoking and kick at spitting your tobacker juice on the floor, and 
she'd make you set still and listen to the speakers when you wanted to be 
swapping jack knives or trading cows, and she'd raise the roof if she saw 
you pocket a little present from the man you voted for. She'd want to 
throw away a heap of good town money improving the schools and improving 
the roads, and then she'd want to improve the men folks. She's run for 
office, and we all know that there ain't near enough offices now for all the 
men what want them, and we don't want any wimmen folks a-crowding 
of U3 out; 'n the first thing we knowed she'd pass a law that she should 
share equally in her husband's money! I know what course we menfolks 
oughter choose, and as for me, give me liberty to go to town meeting with- 
out being tagged and nagged by a woman, or give me — no, I mean give her, 
death! Make it a punishable crime for her to ask for the vote. I know not 
if you all agree with me, but you do if your brains are in good working order. 
We men must unite. Woman is down in the dust at our feet, and we must 
keep her there, or no more will we be the lords of creation, but a meek, hen- 
pecked lot, washing the dishes and tending the baby while our wives gather 
all the graft. Sink or swim, live or die, sick or well, I give my right hand 
and heart to this vote. Wimmen must not vote! They shall not. Never, 
never, never! And to that every man in the kentry should answer "amen! " 

(The men clap and stamp noisily.) 

Hank. Good fer you, Joe! You'll be a stump speaker, yet. 

Mr. Ransome. That was an oration to be proud of, Joe. 

Mr. Benway. Pretty good, pretty good. We will now listen to the other 
side of the question, presented by Miss Dorcas Ann Ransome, in a home- 
made comporsition, written by herself and entitled, "Wimmen's Rights." 
Miss Dorcas! 

(Dorcas comes out, composition in hand, bows in an offhand way and begins.) 



36 The School at Mud Hollow. 

Fair ladies and would-be citizens: This callow youth before us says we should 
not be granted the vote, because we would make the country better! That 
isn't the way he said it, but it's what he means, or rather what his words 
mean, which isn't quite the same. Now when a woman sets her heart on a 
thing, she gets it. We have set our heart on the vote, and we're a-goin' to 
vote, and when we do vote, we'll have our rights. We'll have the right to be 
President, and we'll have a right to jine the masonses, if we want, to, and 
we shall want to, just to find out their old secrets! We'll have a right to 
have something more than a calico dress to cover our backs, and a gingham 
sunbonnet, made out of pieces from the scrapbag, to cover our heads, those 
heads wherein repose the best brains of the nation! Yes, we will be able 
to buy a pair of shoestrings without first cooking up a big dinner to make 
the menfolks good natured so we can ask them for a penny without hearing 
"Where's the penny I gin ye last week gone ter?" We'll have something 
to read besides the Farmer's Almanac, and something to write a letter on 
besides a bit of brown wrapping paper. We'll have for sech things the money 
now flung recklessly away for terbaccer and rum. Yes, and cider, Joe 
Jones! We'll fill the offices and the legislature with the bright lights of the 
female sect, and let the men try a turn at tending young ones and cooking 
dinner. You may struggle and beat your wings all you please, but this is 
a fact. The women air a-going to vote! 

(Women clap their hands noisily.) 

Mr. Bascom. Thet's a powerful smart compersishing, Dorcas Ann, but don't 
you believe yerself. You'll never get it. 

Dorcas Ann. You wait and see, Grandsir. We be a goin' to vote. 

Miss Ketchum. Yes, we be, Reuben, sure as preachin'. 

Mrs. Smythe. And then we shall take unto ourselves all man's especial 
privileges, including that of proposing matterrimony where our hearts' 
arrows points. 

Mr. Ransome. Heaven help the poor men then. Go on quick, Jake, before 
three or four of 'em propose to you. 

Mr. Benway. We will now listen to a recitation by Miss Honora Bridget 
Mary O'Donnell, entitled "Three Little Bugs in a Basket." 

(Nora hangs her head, but doesn't leave her seat.) 

Terry. (In a stage whisper.) Go long wid ye, Nora. (Nora shakes head.) 

Mrs. O'Donnell. Go out and shpake yer piece, Nora darlint. Go long wid 
yer, now. (Nora goes out, hangs head, fidgets with her apron.) 

Miss P. Begin, Nora. 

Nora. Three little bugs in a basket and hardly room for two, 

And wan was yeller and wan was black and wan loike me or you. 
And all were selfish in their hearts the same as me or you. 

(She says it very fast and low.) 

Miss P. Louder. 

Nora. (Very loudly and fast.) Shure, the biggest wan ov thim, he kilt the 

others intirely and gobbled thim up, bad 'cess to him! 
Miss P. No, no, Nora. Begin again, and say it loud and slow. (Nora 

hangs head.) 
Mrs. O'Donnell. Sure, and the colleen's bashful. Sing fer 'em, Nora mavourn- 

een! Ye're never bashful whin ye sing. Sing "Rory O'More." 

Mr. Benway. Yes, Sing, little girl, if you'd rather. 

(Nora sings "Rory O'More" or some other Irish song, in dialect. She should 

sing well, with no signs of bashfulness.) 



The School at Mud Hollow. 37 

Mr. Benway. Pretty good, pretty good. Last on the programme is a little 
speech by Miss Ellowina Roberta Evangeline Smythe, written for the 
occasion by her mother. 

Mr. Ransome. Gosh all hemlock, must we listen to words and words thet 
don't mean nothin'? 

(Ellowina advances, with a package in her hand, and makes an elaborate bow, 
first to Mr. Benway, then to thejteacher, last, to the audience.) 

Ellowina. Mr. Supervisor— beloved teacher — respected parients and friends — 
we are gathered together today on the auspicuous occasion of the latter 
end of this semester of the school year, to show you how much we have 
advanced in our scholastic studies and gymnastics, and exhibit our amazing 
skilland docility in rehearsing for you our orations, recitations, exhortations, 
compersishins, exhibishings, and musical operations. We are glad to spread 
before you the result of this term's hard work and application, and show 
you how extremely well our teacher has trained the young idea to shoot. 
We hope you are pleased with what we have done to entertain and instruct 
you, and that you realize how much our new teacher has done to improve 
the manners, morals and etiketty of this district. To you, our respected 
supervisor, we tender our heartfelt thanks for the interest in us that has 
brought you, a frequented visitor, to these halls and of intellectual learn- 
ing. We hope you are pleased with us, and with our parients, who have 
seen that we attend punctually and regularly. To you, our beloved 
teacher: We thank you for your kind, thoughtful, tender, patient training. 
We are despondently sad to hear that this term, your first, is also to be your 
last, and we ask you to accept this little gift in token of our appreciation, 
as you go from among us to a new district, more cityfied, it may be. In 
the name of all your pupils, I now present you this brush and comb, and 
look — no, mirror. (Steps forward and presents it with elaborate bow. 

Miss P. I thank you all, and assure you I am much pleased with your gift. 
Our Supervisor will now say a few words, and then we will end bv sineine 
by the school. 6 6 

Mr. Benway. I am pleased to see what an interest you take in this school, 
and in the faithful teacher. I never saw a better one, and would be as 
sorry as you be, that she has resigned her task, were it not for the fact that 
she resigns to become my bride. We hereby invite you all to the wedding 
next Wednesday evening at eight. 

Miss Ketchum. Well, of all the sly pusses! I shan't go! 

Mrs. Smythe. I shall sue for injuries 1o the affections. I thought he eared 

for me. He led me to believe it, and this sly minx has taken him away. 

Ellowina, you take back that toilet set! 
Terry. She'll lave it me! It's for the tacher, bliss her heart! 
Mrs. O'Donnell. And it's glad I am that he had sinse enough to choose him 

a young gurrul instid of a highflyin' widdy wid three childher, and a mouth 

full av big wurruds. 

Mrs. Van Hummel. Und she didn't gaught him aretty yet. Maybe she vos 
zorry dot her leedle gurl gif der present, but ve all hellup to buy it, und 
she vos keep it, aretty zum. 

Mrs. Blossom. Dat she shell. Bress her heart, she bin jes' as good to my 
pickaninies as ef dey war white. 

Mrs.S?nythe. Poor taste, I call that. And to think that I've sent my 
children to that designing old maid. She's forty, if she's a day. 



38 The School at Mud Hollow. 

Hannah. Some others are older than they pretend to be. Better let Ever- 
leeny's skirts down a peg. For my part, I'm glad to hear it. 

Hank. You needn't a worried, Harnar. She wouldn't look at me. 

Mrs. O'Donnell. Sure, an' we're all a-fergiting our manners. We must 
congratulate thim. 

Mr. Ransome. Good luck to ye, Jake. She's a beaut — but keep yer hands 
on yer wallet. She's a woman. 

Mrs. S my the. She's an old cat! I hope the bank breaks. Come, children, 
we're going home. 

(She sweeps down and collects her children, and passes out. The others crowd 
down to congratulate the pair, who stand together to receive them.) 

Terry. Three rousin' big cheers for the pritty tacher, bliss her heart! 

{Children cheer, as curtain falls.) 

CURTAIN. 



Entertainments tor Closing Day 

SCHOOL SONGS FOR CLOSING DAY. By Harriette Wilbur, Contains 
a number of most excellent original sengs for the last day celebrations. Some havt 
original music, while others are set to familiar tunes. A very practical colIectioD 
of songs suited to all grades. Bright and pleasing. 15 cents. 

CLOSING EXERCISES FOR PRIMARY GRADES. By Harriette Wilbur 
A rich collection of recitations, dialogs, and other attractive features, bright, spicj 
and thoroughly up-to-date. A book that is decidedly refreshing because every num- 
ber is good. Contains greetings, welcomes and valedictories of a childish nature. 
In preparing this volume our special aim has been to provide all material needed by 
the teacher and pupil at this time. It is choice and complete. 25 cents. 

CLOSING EXERCISES FOR THE GRADES. Compiled by Harriette Wil- 
bur. A budget of wide-awake recitations, covering all phases of last day and vaca- 
tion events and ideals; an original salutatory and valedictory; two clever little 
plays, sparkling with fun, etc. A much needed book that supplies the demand. 
It is a gem. 25 cents. 

TEN COMMENCEMENT SONGS. By Harriette Wilbur and otbers. A 

splendid collection of choice, new songs specially written for Graduation day. This 
collection embraces original class songs ; commencement, graduation, valedictory 
and farewell songs. Some are set to original music, some to favorite college songs, 
and others to operatic selections. Words and music complete. 25 cents. 

CLOSING RECITATIONS FOR THE HIGH SCHOOL. Compiled by Har- 
riette Wilbur. An excellent collection of appropriate material for the high school. 
It will be welcomed by pupils just entering the high school, as well as those pre- 
paring to graduate. Each selection is of rare value. Sensible, choice and inspir- 
ing. 25 cents. 

NEW CELEBRATIONS FOR LAST DAY OF SCHOOL, Flag Day and Bird 
Day. By Ida M. Hedrick. Choice material for all grades. Practical and appro- 
priate. 25 cents. 

WHEN WE GRADUATE. An abundance of indispensable material for 
the commencement season. It embraces model salutatories and valedictories com- 
plete ; hints regarding the graduation oration, its preparation and delivery ; com- 
mencement hints ; class mottoes ; a large number of outlined graduation essays and 
orations on a wide diversity of subjects ; historical, literary, ethical, industrial, 
biographical, etc. The imperative demand for such material has prompted the 
publication of this book and we heartily recommend it. It amply covers every need 
for this occasion. Herein you find "graduation made easy." Beneficial to teachers 
or pupils of Grammar Grades, High Schools and Colleges. It is worth while. 50c. 

(See other lists for additional material appropriate for these occasions.) 

Entertainments for Thanksgiving 

THE WAIF'S THANKSGIVING. By Elizabeth F. Guptill. An intensely 

pathetic little play. Of absorbing interest from start to finish. The appreciation 
of a lady of affluence shown some destitute newsboys for their sterling integrity 
leads to the recovery of her little son, who had been kidnapped and not drowned, as 
she supposed. For intermediate or mixed grades. 5 males and 4 females ; more if 
desired. Three-quarters of an hour. 25 cents. 

THANKSGIVING SONGSTER, THE. By Effie Louise Koogle. Songs of 
Thanksgiving time for old and young. Solos, duets and choruses abundant ; serious, 
sensible, pathetic and humorous. All phases of the season woven into mirthful and 
enchanting song. The only collection of Thanksgiving songs of this character. 25c. 

FIN DE SIECLE THANKSGIVING EXERCISES. Contains material for 
several entertainments. Separate program for each grade. Original songs, recita- 
tions, dialogs and many other features. Bright, enthusiastic, sensible. 15 cents. 

NEWSBOYS' THANKSGIVING, THE. A jolly new play. Four city news- 
boys go to the country on Thanksgiving Day, make the acquaintance of Farmer 
Brown and his family, have a merry time and a good dinner. Sensible, but full of 
fun. 6 male, 4 female characters. No troublesome requirements. Time, 40 min- 
utes. 15 cents. 

TWENTIETH CENTURY THANKSGIVING EXERCISES, THE. Pro- 
vides an abundance of choice, new material, including several dialogs for celebrat- 
ing Thanksgiving in the schoolroom. Practical, gratifying, sensible. 15 cents. 

BOBBY BREWSTER'S ROOSTER. A delightful Thanksgiving operetta 
for young folks, by Effie Louise Koogle. The plot is strong; the climax surpris- 
ing; the music full of life. Two scenes, ordinary furnishings. No costuming. 
5 boys and 5 girls required. Any number more may be used. About three-quarters 
of ah hour. Words and music complete. 25 cents. 

TWO INVITATIONS, THE. For Thanksgiving. A jolly new operetta- 
Fun from beginning to end. The music is bright and catchy. Full of clever hits. 
Easy to give. For 4 boys and 5 girls. 15 cents. 

HOW TO CELEBRATE THANKSGIVING DAY and other holidays, birth- 
days of authors and noted men. Full and complete programs provided for every 
holiday. 25 cents. 

No entertainments sent on approval or exchanged. 



Thanksgiving Entertainments — Continued. 

JACK FROST'S MISTAKE. By Clara J. Denton. A very clever one-act 

operetta. Four speaking parts and a chorus of any number. Familiar music is 
given. Easily prepared. The costumes are simple but wonderfully effective. A 
great success. 8 or more boys. 45 minutes. 25 cents. 

THANKFUL BOBBY. A solo for a small boy. A delightful Thanksgiving 
number. Range suited to a small boy's voice. Bobby gives good reasons for being 
thankful — from a boy's viewpoint. 25 cents. 

LITTLE THANKSGIVING WORKERS. An action song for one or more 
little girls. Describes the preparation for the annual feast day most effectively. 
A pleasing melody which little singers will relish. 25 cents. 

THANKSGIVING IN BROWNIE-LAND. By Effie Louise Koogle. A rol- 
licking play for boys. For any time. Full of life and fun. Also contains Novem- 
ber's Crown. 15 cents. 

NOVEMBER'S CROWN. A new spectacular entertainment for Thanks- 
giving. Easy to present, but wonderfully brilliant and pleasing. For 14 girls and 
boys. 15 cents. 

CHRYSANTHEMUMS. A fancy march and drill for 12 girls, or 8 girls 
and 4 boys. Contains original music. Dainty but effective. 15 cents. 

AUTUMN LEAVES. A fancy drill or exercise for 6 girls carrying sprays 
of autumn leaves. Simple, but pleasing. 15 cents. 

Entertainments for Christmas 

Christmas Operettas 

THE CHRISTMAS GARDEN. By Edna Randolph Worrell. A lively 

spectacular play with captivating music. The Sun, Moon, Stars and Flowers, Snov 
and Blow and Kris appear in appropriate costumes. Spicy colloquy and unusually 
clever song. 15 or more children. The more the better. Costumes and scenery 
easily made of crepe paper. Words and music complete. 25 cents. 

THE TOYS' REBELLION. The famous little operetta which captured 
the first prize awarded by the Ladies' Home Journal for the best Christmas play for 
children. Equally as bright and captivating as "Runaway Bear," "Christmas at 
the Pole," etc., by the same author, Edna Randolph Worrell. Characters : The 
toys (11 small children), 6 or more boys and girls, 11 to 14 years old, and Kris 
Kringle. 25 cents. 

CHRISTMAS AT THE POLE. An operetta for big and little, by Edna 
Randolph Worrell. For the entire school or a select few. Characters : Uncle Sam, 
Santa, Twin Explorers, Students (any number), the Nations (any number), Eskimos 
(any number). Ideal and up-to-date. The text is a lively combination of happy 
thoughts and pleasant surprises. The music is fascinating and enchanting. We 
recommend this production most highly. Words and music complete, 40 cents. 

COL. GRUMPY'S CHRISTMAS. A jolly operetta, by Effie Louise Koogle. 
At a house party on Christmas eve, a burglary is perpetrated, Santa Claus captured, 
and lively times ensue. A capital plot. Music provokingly clever and capricious ; 
dialog spicy and lively. Full of fun and frolic. Easy to learn. No scenery or 
costumes required. 4 boys and 4 girls in speaking parts, any number more desired. 
Words and music complete. Three-quarters of an hour. 25 cents. 

A SURPRISED GRUMBLER, or How Kris Kringle Made a Convert. A 
new Christmas operetta. Brilliant music, sparkling words. Full of life. Original, 
Jolly and clever ; sure to captivate the audience. 25 minutes. 15 cents. 

THE RUN-A-WAY BEAR. A Teddy Bear novelty, by Edna Randolph 
Worrell. An operetta for any number of children. A unique plot, clever puns, 
witticisms and music the most pleasing, combine to make one of the rarest up-to- 
date entertainments. Introduces "Teddy Bear" parade, with catchy music. Cos- 
tumes simple, and no bothersome requirements. Easy to learn, easy to give. Time, 
a half hour or longer. Music and dialog complete, 40 cents. 

KRIS KRINGLE'S MINSTRELS. By Effie Louise Koogle. The "totally 
different" Christmas entertainment. Add to the attractiveness of the minstrel 
show idea the distinction of having "His Royal Nibs" as Interlocutor, with equally 
unique personalities as End Men, endow them with a program flashing with fun, 
brilliant with beauty, enlivening with song and teeming with specialties, and you 
have a scream of delight from start to finish. The most novel novelty of the age. 
25 cents. 

Christmas Drills and Marches 

CHRISTMAS STAR MARCH AND DRILL. Various figures of fancy 
marches, and a captivating drill. For 16 or 24 girls. Easy to give, picturesque in 
effect. Diagrams and full explanations given. Exceedingly effective ; sure to 
delight. 15 cents. 

HOLLY. A Jumping-rope Drill for 6 girls, by Harriette Wilbur. An 
original and unique exercise of wonderful beauty. Contains special music. 15 cents. 

No entertainments sent on approval or exchanged. 



New York 



TULLAR-MEREDITH CO. 



Chicago 




POPULAR ENTERTAINMENTS 

THE RAG SOCIABLE. A quaint old fashioned entertainment which is always sure to 
please. Libretto by Edith S. Tillotson. Music by various Composers. The dialog is very 
spicy and interesting, and humor and pathos are beautifully blended in the various musical 
selections. The characters include Mrs. Winters and her two daughters Betsy and Maria, 
Miss Jemima Rush. Mrs. Bassett, Mrs. Collins, Mrs. Salina Grey, the Allen twins (elderly), 
Mrs. Martha Ann Hall. Miss Eliza Hall, Mrs. Jane Tompkins and Amanoa Tompkins. The 
]ist of characters may be extended ad. lib. to meet local conditions. 

A fine entertainment for a class of women or girls. Ladies' Aid, Christian Endeavor and 
Epworth League Societies, etc Price. 25 cents per copy 

LOVE FINDS THE WAY, or The Detective That Father Hired. Music by Chas. H. 
GabrieL Words by Rev. Wm. Danforth, author of "The Old District School," etc. A 
highly amusing farcical song-skit, with four characters: A Determined Young Lover, 
an Irate Father, a Daughter with a Will of Her Own, and an Aiding and Abetting Mother- 
parts: tenor, basso, soDrano and alto. 

This composition consists of singing and dialog for each part and will serve to enliven any 
entertainment. The music is moderately easy, melodious and should be available in 
practically all communities This work consists of some 12 pages in sheet music form. 
The story is as follows: A father, who objects to his daughter having a beau, believing that she is planning to elope 
with an unknown young man, advertises for a detective to ferret the matter out. The young lover answi-rs the ad- 
vertisement, and t.ie father hires him to detect the culprit, promising to pay him "anything within reason." When 
the young lover's tme identity is disclosed, he demands as his reward, for having detected himself, the hand of the 
daughter. The irate father objects. The daughter eventually convinces him that true love was the real detective in 
the case, and the parental consent is given. Price. $1.50: 50 per cent discount. 

THE OLD DISTRICT SCHOOL. A farce in two acts tnew version). Book by Wm. Danforth. Music arr. by Geo. F. 

Rosche. This is a burlesque on the district school of 100 years ago. Ezekiel Simpkins, the teacher, is the central char- 
acter His costume is a tight Prince Albert coat, with brass buttons, or a worn and faded "claw-hammer" coat, colored 
vest cut low; stock collar, with large black tie; trousers, "high-water," with a patch of other color on one knee; well- 
worn shoes. Bald gray wig and "side" whiskers The costumes of the pupils are in keeping with those of the teacher. 
The characters all read their lines from the book, so that there is very little to be memorized and for this reason this 
work can be prepared in a very short time. Price, postpaid, 50 cents per copy. 

THE CHAPERON. A humorous Operetta in three Acts. Libretto by Wm. Danforth. Music by Geo. F. Rosche. 
"The Chaperon' is a humorous operetta designed for church choir and young people's societies. It will be found avail- 
able in all communities in which seven young men ana seven young ladies who sing can be found. The music is bright, 
tuneful, easy to learn and easy to remember. The dialogue is witty, clean, wholesome and entertaining. Price, post- 
paid, 60 cents per copy. 

THE VISION OF HENSEL. An evening with the old songs. The old songs of child- 
hood, youth, love, war and home. Libretto by Elian N. Wood. There is no friend like 
an old friend and after all there are no songs we love quite so much as the old ones. 
This cantata furnishes a beautiful medium for the introduction of the old songs which 
we all know and love. There is just enough libretto to the work to form a continuous 
chain of thought throughout, and we know of no cantata that will afford such a pleasing 
entertainment at such a small expenditure of labor. The book is well worth its price if 
only to secure this fine collection of old home songs. Full of sentiment, humor and 
pathos and decidedly new and fresh in construction. Price, 30cents per copy, postpaid; 
$3.00 per dozen, not prepaid; add 3 cents per copy for postage. 



< g t*Sg 



THE SPINSTERS* CLUB. A humorous operetta In two acts. Libretto by Harriet D. 
Castle. Music by Geo. F. Rosche. "The Spinsters' Club" is a humorous operetta 
designed for church choirs and young people's societies. It will be found available in 
all communities in which a church choir is found. The music is bright, tuneful, and 
yet easy to learn and memorize. The dialogue is witty, pleasing and entertaining. 
Mce. postpaid 60 cents per copy. 

A returnable sample copy of any of the above mailed on receipt of 3 cents for postage; to be 
returned postpaid or paid for in Thirty days. 



i 



£ 



THE VISION 
OF HENSEL 



lfe»M!!g^g3»M!SMS& 



ILLUSTRATED PANTOMIMED HYMNS 

NEARER MY GOD TO THEE. Posed under the direction of Eleanor H. Denig. This is a particularly fine produc- 
tion and lends itself admirably for a twelve-minute addition to an evening's entertainment in the church or hall. The 
instructions are very clear so that this pantomime may be prepared by anyone with ordinary talent or ability. The 
fourteen full figure halftone illustrations will be found an excellent help. 

The music is very complete. The regular hymn tune is printed for mixed voices; also an original quartet for voices of 
women and an original setting for voices of men and an original duet for soprano and alto by J. S. Fearis, thus furnish- 
ing a variety of music found in no other publication of this sort. Price, 40 cents postpaid. "Not sent on examination.'* 

IT CAME UPON THE MIDNIGHT CLEAR. Posed under the direction of Eleanor H. Denig. This pantomime will 
be particuarly interesting during the winter season for a twelve-minute addition to church or other entertainments. 
The directions are very elaborate, enabling any person to prepare the same successfully. The music is very complete, 
consisting of a hymn tune for mixed voices: an original setting for voices of both women and men: also a very fine duet 
soprano and alto; the latter by Chas. H. GabrieL Price. 40 cents per copy postpaid. "Not sent on examination.'' 



New York 



TULLAR- MEREDITH CO. 



Chicago 



EW PLA 



LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 





016 103 803 9 



By Elizabeth F. Cviptill 
The School at Mud HoUow. A burlesque 
Females. Time about 2 hours. Price 35 ce 
PART I. In which is portrayed the diffieultie 

Pinkham, who has come to "Mud Hollow" to assume the responsible 
duties of "Teacher" in the school. In selecting "Mud Hollow" she seeks a 
change from the city life she is accustomed to, and finds plenty of it in the 
manners, customs and dialect of the pupils. From start to finish there is 
nothing but fun. 

PART II. Which represents the last day at the school, when the proud 
parents are present to listen to the final examination of the class by the 
Supervisor and enjoy the program which is rendered by the pupils. Part 
II. offers an opportunity for about 60 minutes of the finest fun possible. 
"The School at Mud Hollow" may be given in one evening, but for those 
who would prefer to make two evenings of it, or to give only one part, we 

offer the same work announced below under the title of "The New Teacher at Mud Hollow 

School" and "The Last Dap at Mud Hollow School" either of which can be given as a 

complete entertainment without regard to the other one. 

The New Teacher at Mud Hollow School. Being Part I. of THE SCHOOL AT MUD HOLLOW. 

6 Males and 14 Females. Time about 1 hour. Price 25 cents. 

The Last Day at Mud Hollow School. Being Part II. of THE SCHOOL AT MUD HOLLOW. 

8 Males and 19 Females. Time about 1 hour. Price 25 cents. 

Santa's Rescue 

Two mysterious pieces of paper fall into the hands of the children, one 
being found by the BOYS and one by the GIRLS. The meaning of the in- 
scription on each remains a mystery until it is discerned that by placing 
the papers together they have the message that the "Old Witch" of the 
North has captured "Santa" and holds him in an ice prison at the North Pole. 
Of course there could be no "Merry Christmas" without their "patron saint", 
so guided by the "Fairy Godmother" they start for the North Pole to rescue 
him. The "Old Witch" endeavors to block the rescuers' way by the as- 
sistance of "Old Zero" and the "Snow Fairies" but when they learn that 
the snow drifts they are piling up are to aid in keeping "Santa" from his 
usual Christmas activities they get the "Sunbeam Fairies" to come to their 
aid and melt the snow, while they bind with a frozen cord the "Old Witch," 
who is found indulging in a nap which she takes only once every hundred years. With the "Old 
Witch" powerless and in their control the Rescue of Santa is an easy matter. 
Tho* Delated somewhat by his enforced stay at the North Pole, the children are glad to become 
his "aides" in spreading a "Merry Christmas" through all the world. This is a very clever plot, 
well worked out, and will make a decided hit for the Christmas season. 4 Boys and 5 Girls with 
any number of Fairies. Time about 1 hour. Price 25 cents. 





FARCES 



Taking the Census. Mr. Cole, the Census Taker, has a funny experience 
in an attempt to gather the facts required by the government from Mrs. 
Almira Johnson, a "cullud lady," and her young son Alexander. Three 
characters only. Time about 10 minutes. Price 10 cents. 

Answering the Phone. Mrs. Courtney and her daughter have a most try- 
ing experience with Nora Flanagan, the new "hired girl," who in their 
absence attempts to carry out the instructions given with special reference 
to "answering the phone." The final situation in which Nora makes a date 
with Miss Courtney's "intended" is ridiculous in the extreme. 3 females. 
Time about 15 minutes. Price 10 cents. 

The Twins and How They Entertained the New Minister. They have a 

delightful time telling family secrets to the "New Minister," who has 

called for the first time. They explain the necessity of seeing their mother 

to find out from her if she is "In," for so often she is "Out" when she is "In" and "In" when she 

is "Out" 2 Males and 1 Female. Time about 15 minutes. Price 10 cents. 

NO ENTERTAINMENTS SENT "ON EXAMINATION" 



